Effing Perfect
by purrpickle
Summary: Collaboration with FoxChaos. Sequel to Perfect. Rachel and Santana are getting closer in more ways than one, but it doesn't take long for their stubborn attitudes to clash as misunderstandings get blown out of proportion, leading, ultimately, to both wondering if they're ever going to get it right. Pezberry g!peen, and rated M for a reason. DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **We (FoxChaos and purrpickle ["Purrx"]) don't own Glee nor the characters within. Well. Here. Have the first chapter of the sequel to Perfect. Just be warned. Plot will come into this somewhere along the line. XD Again, sparsely edited because we're going to go ahead and start the next chapter now. Also again, should be readable. :D

**Warning:** This contains g!peen, so if you don't like it, don't read it. :D

* * *

Rachel wakes up to a slow, constant rise and fall of her pillow. Warm, tired, and aching in places she hadn't since her first time, she shivers when fingers stroke her cheek, pushing hair away from her eyes. "I can tell you're awake," Santana's voice rumbles against her ear.

Lips curving up as she realizes Santana's other hand is curled around the small of her back, legs stretched out alongside Rachel's, Rachel squeezes Santana's bare hip under her arm.

She would have expected to be uncomfortable, splayed across Santana's body in an almost ungainly sprawl, only half of her chest and head supported by Santana's stomach and rib cage, but she's not. She blushes; that's obviously one of Santana's breasts resting against the top of her head. "How am I even _here_?" she sucks in some confidence and smiles, shifting her head up to gaze shyly at Santana's sparkling dark eyes and smirking plump lips, "I mean, how did I _sleep _like this?"

The smirk on Santana's lips sharpens as a thin eyebrow arches up. "Well, first I fucked you for like, two hours, and then-"

Rachel slaps her stomach, face lighting up a lovely shade of red (which Santana thinks is _ridiculous _considering the fact they're both very naked and _why _they're that way in the first place). "Santana! You're being vulgar." And despite the admonishment Rachel hasn't actually moved from her spot on Santana; if anything she's shifted so that she's even more atop the girl.

She gets a dirty grin in reply. "_Really? _Because I'm pretty sure I had much worse this morning…" The grin gets dangerously toothy as dark eyes narrow, and the shuttered look is enough to make Rachel shiver a little. "And I _know _you did…" Then Santana's bringing her hands up to Rachel's sides, sliding them up and down and across her back as she lets her head fall back against the pillow, chuckling. "Didn't know you had it in you, Berry."

Rolling her eyes, pausing as they land on the exposed neck that Santana has just unwittingly exposed to her, Rachel offers up a smirk of her own, which goes unseen until she's moving up over Santana's warm body and laying a soft kiss directly over the girl's jugular, right before she nips down at it. The hands on Rachel's sides tighten suddenly and Santana's hips jump. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Santana…" murmurs the smaller girl as she continues placing little kisses and bites along Santana's throat.

Laughing breathily, the tanned girl let's Rachel keep going for a little longer before shifting her knees up, locking a foot around one of Rachel's calves, and flipping them overly smoothly. She gazes down at the smaller girl, eyes already starting to smolder. "Don't get me wrong, Rach," she starts, voice already low. "I'd _love _to see where this is going… But…" She sits up, straddling Rachel's hips and using her hands on both sides of Rachel's ribs to support herself as her hair cascades over her shoulder in a dark curtain. "I'm hungry. Really hungry. And if we wanna eat at all today, we should probably get outta bed, shower, and actually leave your dorm."

Rachel lifts herself up on her elbows, stealing a quick kiss, which Santana doesn't bother fighting, before answering snarkily. "Is the great Santana Lopez actually being logical and putting an opportunity for sex _on hold _in the name of proper hygiene and sustenance?" She gets a sharp pinch to her exposed nipple for that and has to bite her tongue quickly to keep from gasping.

Pecking Rachel's forehead, Santana gets off her and off the bed. She stretches out, reveling at the sounds of her spine and joints popping deliciously as she twists her waist and rolls her shoulders, completely uncaring of the free show she's giving Rachel. Or completely aware of and purposefully providing.

The other girl slowly licks her lips as she takes in the taunt back muscles moving under Santana's smooth skin and the flashes of lightly toned abs that she manages to get, along with some side boob. It's ridiculous that despite having seen _all _of Santana just hours before that somehow she isn't at all used to the sight and her eyes can't stop drinking everything in. Then Santana turns around, hands on her hips, and Rachel can't help but glance down at the soft cock hanging between toned thighs.

Memories of the morning rush back and she knows she's blushing _again_.

So, before the other girl can make a snarky comment, Rachel is up off the bed and headed over to grab her shower things. "So, we have two options," she says as she pulls out her robe from her closet. "We can shower separately, which is what we're supposed to do, or…"

She glances over at the clock on her desk, almost afraid to see how much of her day she's lost already. Even without her and Santana's morning… Workout, she blushes, trying to ignore how much her body was screaming at her that she'd been well satisfied, her schedule probably would have been out of sorts because she _had _after all, been woken up by Santana's call and subsequent calling for a taxi to go and pick up the inebriated girl.

Oh. 3:24. _Definitely_ could have been worse.

"Or…?" Santana's voice, low and suggestive, is quickly followed by two strong, confident arms wrapping around Rachel's shoulders from behind, the girl's body pressing into her back. Warm, solid, Santana's hair tickling along her cheek, Rachel closes her eyes, unable to hold back the moan as this position brings back memories from earlier that day.

She's hungry, she's dirty, but she's also only a second away from turning around and pushing Santana back onto the bed and mounting her for a quick, frantic pounding orgasm. "Santana…" she groans, pushing back into her, "If you want to get _anything _done today, I suggest you _let me_ put on this robe and find you something to wear as well."

Santana's hands fall to trace teasingly around Rachel's ribs and hips, thumbs massaging her hipbones. Her lips smiled against Rachel's cheek. "Aren't _you _the one who just practically propositioned me for shower sex?"

It's odd that her body reacts more to feeling Santana smile against her face than the thumbs and palms pressing into her hipbones, but either way Rachel can't help but melt a little. _One more time can't do any harm. _she reasons, and it's better to get this out of the way so they don't get all sweaty right after taking showers anyway, right?

Exactly.

Santana can't read Rachel's mind, though, and judging by her silence she's starting to wonder if maybe she's being too pushy, and if maybe Rachel really would like to take a break from all the sex without it meaning they're both asleep, because in hindsight the smaller girl is probably incredibly sore, and those dark bruises on her neck and shoulders and back also probably throb a little, and so just as she's about to pull back and say something about finding a proper place to eat apparently Rachel has come to a decision, because before Santana can blink she's being spun around and pushed against the wall closes to them and Rachel's hot mouth is over hers.

Her brain fries for a moment as all the blood that goes there for coherent thinking plummets into her core instead, waking up a much, much different kind of head. Her heart skips a beat as she feels Rachel slide her tongue over the seem of her lips, which open up automatically and _finally _her hands remember what they should be doing at this point and pull the other girl into her hips tighter.

Rachel's hands are in Santana hair and she's dominating the kiss easily, and Santana is letting her, she knows, which is fine, because she can Santana's length already starting to harden against her thigh and is pretty sure the roles are going to get reversed in due time.

Which is also fine.

Santana's hands are squeezing and massaging Rachel's lower back, her tongue talented and demanding in Rachel's mouth, even if Rachel's the one kissing _her_. And, pushing her hips up, sliding her thigh in between Rachel's legs, Santana swallows Rachel's gasp. "Mmhm," she chuckles huskily, pulling Rachel tighter against her, "Yeah. You're already getting wet, aren't you, baby?" The trembling and tensing of Rachel's stomach pushing into her is just making her arousal grow.

_Fuck_.

At least, she thinks, moaning as Rachel's fingernails scrape along her neck as she continues kissing her, that morning wasn't a fluke. That all she felt wasn't, presumably, a one-time thing.

"_Santana_…" Breath catching, shoving down to grind into Santana's thigh, Rachel's hands have to fall to grip Santana's sides, her head dropping as well to press her forehead into Santana's neck. Santana's erection, now at full-mast, is hot against her inner thigh, and it's just as thick and thrilling as she remembers it. "It should be _criminal_ - _mmm_ - how easily you affect me."

"Criminal?" Santana's lips turn up, suddenly taking one of Rachel's breasts in her hand and rolling her palm over the hard nipple, "Do you want me to stop?"

_Stop?_ Rachel thinks, the concept seeming so foreign by this point. _I don't think so._

With that thought firmly in place she lowers a hand, dragging her nails down Santana's arm and around her thigh before slipping it in between them and curling it around the girl's hardened dick. She hears Santana breathe in sharply; feels a shudder run through the taller girl, and doesn't even attempt to hide the small smirk stretching across her lips as she shifts her mouth away from Santana's neck and to the girl's ear.

"Santana…," comes the husky, confident whisper as Rachel continues to slowly tighten and loosen her grip, circling the length with her thumb back and forth. "If you even think about stopping, I swear on the great and wonderful Barbra Streisand that I will push you down onto that bed behind us and fuck you myself if that is what I need to do." But despite how assured she knows her voice sounds, and how her hand hasn't stopped massaging the hot, iron-like rod that is Santana's thick cock, Rachel can't help but bite her lip nervously and wonder if maybe that was a little too far and forward.

She should have known better, to be honest, because if the low moan and way Santana is suddenly forcing her roughly against the wall, hands on her thighs and grinding herself harder into Rachel's hand is anything to go by… it was all the right thing to say. The taller girl presses their chests together and starts up another heated kiss, still completely blown by how _right _everything feels.

As Rachel starts to press back into her, hand speeding up and swiping the pre-cum that's been dripping from her slit for the past few minutes now, Santana's hold on the smaller girl's thighs tightens as her her legs bend a bit and her lifts up, shifting her hips forward. Rachel takes the hint and jumps just enough to help, locking her legs around the girl's waist as her stomach flips and the idea of doing it _this way _seems to make her even more wet. "C-can-" she gasps as she feels Santana's head against her entrance. "Can you really… Can you actually do this?"

Honestly?

Santana's not completely sure. But she knows her thighs are still the equivalent of steel, and that her core muscles can definitely handle it. So.

She sheaths herself into Rachel, faster than she has before, and waits, holding Rachel firmly against herself and the wall as she lets Rachel to adjust. "Dunno, babe," is the low reply. "Guess you're about to find out."

Having been empty just the second before, and no matter how wet and open she is, Rachel still gasps, freezing, burning as her walls clamp down on Santana buried high in her belly. Thick, seemingly thicker than earlier due to the soreness Rachel had been feeling, Rachel both sways and pushes down on Santana's shoulders to afford herself some relief from Santana slamming into back of her. "_Santana_," she chokes, shaking, head falling to dig her forehead into the back of Santana's neck. When Santana shifted, arms tightening around her as she sagged, Rachel almost barks when her thickness stretches her walls even more.

But through it all, even as her nails don't leave Santana's skin as she squeezes Santana inside her to let her know she's ready to find out if Santana _can_, in fact _do_ this, she knows, somehow, that Santana inside her like this, is better than when she wasn't throbbing inside her.

Should she be angry at Santana for the roughness?

Santana's hands pin Rachel's hips to the wall, the girl biting into Rachel's neck with a sighed, husky, _"Fuck_, you feel so _goooooooood_," chest heaving as she pulls herself back, slow, slow, dragging her thick head along her walls.

Rachel trembles, the sensation of being so dependent on Santana, even more than before, the inflexible firmness of the wall contrasting with Santana's flexing firmness makes her heart pound, clutching Santana to her.

No, she decides, only breathing again when Santana hisses at her to just before surging back into her just as fast as the first time, bottoming out, Rachel grunting like she's never heard herself do before as her back arches, rolling her hips to fully _feel _Santana inside her.

No. This is _exactly_ what she wanted.

Thigh muscles working as she hunches her hips and slams up and forward again, Santana's moan is absolutely _obscene _against Rachel's neck, with her nails digging into the girl's legs and teeth consistently going between soft nibbles to sharp nips in time with the rough, building pace that the taller girl has started to set.

With each thrust Rachel is slammed into the wall and onto Santana, stretching and groaning as her muscles flex, inside and out, with abs trembling and hands shaking at the burning trail Santana's throbbing dick continues to forge inside of her, despite (or maybe because of) how tightly her walls are clamoring around her. She feels like she's burning up from the inside, starting from her core as heat and arousal and hot electricity seem to coil, releasing itself in sharp jolts every time she feels Santana bottom out and hammer into her harder and harder and-

Then Rachel, suddenly incredibly aware of how Santana's naked chest is smashed into hers and that there are two very, very stiff nipples rubbing against her own, remembers that she can use her hands, even if Santana can't.

So she does.

And Santana's thrust trips for a moment when she feels one of Rachel's hands claw across her shoulders and down to her chest, leaving an angry red trail over her tanned skin before those same nails are digging, lightly at first, into her tit as Rachel's massages the breast. Just as Santana's finding her rhythm there are two nails digging into her nipple and tugging, and the taller girl reacts by clamping down her teeth into the muscles of Rachel's trap, growling in ecstasy, and crashing her hips into Rachel's, which then forces the girl even harder against the solid, concrete wall behind her.

In response Rachel hisses, the nails still around Santana's neck stabbing along the girl's back as the other hand continues to roughly massage and twist at the tit it's cupping.

Somehow the idea that they're competing to make the other come first, and hard, hits them both at the same time, and only serves to make their movements more calculated and purposeful behind the pounding, biting frenzy that the act has quickly become.

Barely aware of something crashing to the floor after a particularly powerful thrust, Rachel times what she can of her own thrusts. Santana twists inside her, and as she pulls back, Rachel rolls her hips and squeezes Santana's breast harder, the hand now snarled in Santana's hair shoves her head up, away from Rachel's neck so she can crash their mouths together. She wants to breathe in Santana's gasps, she wants Santana's plump lips, and as Santana slams her back against the wall again, she bites down onto Santana's bottom lip.

The sound that leaves Santana's throat is one Rachel knows she'll never forget. It sounds desperate and raw, hitting Rachel as deep inside as her cock splitting her apart. "Rache," Santana growls, somehow finding the strength to push up on her toes so she can grind and rut inside Rachel between wet, deep kisses, "Rache, _fuck_, I want to _ruin _you."

"Then do it," Rachel hisses back, pushing Santana's head away, glaring into her blown eyes, "_Wreck_ me for anyone else." And in that moment, she means it. She really, really means it.

Santana's body fuckin' _stutters_, and it takes all of her strength that she doesn't cum right then and there, doesn't swell up and explode deep inside her. Rachel wants her to wreck her?

Good fucking thing Santana had never been one to disappoint.

Santana pulls back until only her swollen head is still inside Rachel, licking at the drop of blood she can feel Rachel had nicked with her teeth; seeing Rachel's eyes move down at the motion, her mouth opening as her eyebrows draw together, she surges her way back into her, knocking all sound out of the smaller girl's body. There was no way she was going to let Rachel apologize. It was a badge of honor like the blood she knows the girl had drawn from her back earlier that she just hadn't bothered looking at yet.

No. This is new. This is Rachel, and the fact that Santana can drive her so crazy that she can't control herself, has her wailing and digging into Santana as hard as she can…

Santana likes it.

And she wants more.

And, in a split-second decision, she wraps her arms under Rachel's ass, clenches her muscles, and pushes completely away from the wall.

From what she can barely remember regarding the set-up of Rachel's dorm, there is a desk somewhere not far, and if she's going to ruin Rachel, she's going to ruin every part of this room for Rachel, too.

So with that goal in mind Santana turns, biceps flexing against the body pressing into her and legs burning in delicious exertion. It's not that Rachel's heavy— she really isn't in the least, but her hips are still trying to pump in and out of the silky vice squeezing and milking her cock, so said legs aren't completely sure what they should be focusing on.

Santana knows, though, and as she keeps Rachel distracted with rough kisses and the rougher kneading of her ass (which is supposed to be more for Santana's pleasure than Rachel's but the small singer doesn't exactly seem _opposed _to the treatment) she walks them over to the desk, kicking a foot out to shove the chair aside and out of her way. It clatters to the carpeted floor with a soft thump right as Rachel's ass hits the (thankfully empty) surface of the wood structure.

Moaning at the cold that comes in contact with all slippery heat that is her ass, thighs, and swollen nether lips, Rachel bites Santana's tongue in surprise and desperation. She's about to tell the taller girl to start moving again, because there's been a break in the rutting that Rachel is not at all pleased about, when without warning Santana's arms are around her back and she's being slammed into the girl's chest just as Santana's dick is slammed into her. She keens, nails scrambling for a perch again as her legs tighten their hold around the ex-cheerleader's waist and the wind is knocked out of her lungs for a moment.

Rachel isn't given any time to recover, though, because Santana's full upper body is hugging her close as her hips piston back and forth at such a rate that the desk is jerking against the wall, books are falling, and Rachel can't quite remember her own name. Her entire world revolves around the hard muscles flexing against her skin, the firm breasts crushing against her own, and the sounds and smells of dirty, _deliciously dirty _and unrepentant _fucking._

Cock starting to swell and legs starting to trembling, Santana slams her palms down against the surface of the desk right behind Rachel, giving her more leverage to lift and thrust while keeping the smaller girl as close to her as physically possible. "I'm gonna fucking ruin every fucking part of this stupid dorm for you," she puffs out in between the harsh inhales and exhales stuttering through her lungs. "When you sleep you'll dream about me _fucking you like a little bitch_," she continues, drawing out all the way to the outer lips before slamming back inside. "When you're sitting here, trying to just _study_, you won't be able to think of anything but how I had you here, _squirming_, and so fucking _desperate _for to me tear that little pussy of yours _in half_."

She swears she can feel Rachel's walls clench around her even _tighter _and there are definitely a set of nails digging into the base of her spine as Rachel moans her name and a deep, begging, "**_Please, San_**_-"_

"What, baby? What? You want that? You want…" She pulls back again, biting back the moan and feel of loss as the length of her dick hits the cool air, Rachel's pussy clutching and pulling at her head to keep her in her, "_This_?" When she's seated completely inside Rachel again, she has to gather her breath because it actually took more effort to push through Rachel's walls, slick and as drenched as they are. "_Tight_," she hisses, rotating her hips and doing truncated crunches to make quick, slapping sounds as her hips impact the back of Rachel's thighs, Santana's hands scrambling up just long enough to pull Rachel's legs from around her waist. Pushing Rachel back until she's snug against the cupboard part of the desk, Santana can barely concentrate on the fact that the girl's flexible enough for her calves to tremble around Santana's shoulders because this new position is almost like there's _nothing _stopping Santana from spearing right through her.

Rachel's so wet and snug and mewling so loudly as her nails are now raking up and down Santana's shoulders, abs and legs tensing, gasping Santana's name over and over again that her body only coils tighter and tighter. The desk is rough against her back, but she doesn't care because Santana's thickness is so deeply buried in her she knows her body's going to mold to her shape. "_**Yes**_," she practically screams, the desk slamming against the wall in time with Santana pounding into the back of her pussy, sluicing back and forth as Rachel just gets tighter as her orgasm mounts.

Even with the frenzy of earlier that day, even with how well Santana had fucked her before, Rachel knows she _won't _forget this. Every time she's going to sit at that desk, she's going to have to fight the urge to finger-fuck herself into a mess as she remembers Santana filling her.

And Rachel loves the idea. She needs this orgasm to happen to make sure it does. And for that to happen, she knows what she needs. Crashing Santana's mouth into hers, Rachel can feel the pulsing of Santana inside her so acutely that she swears she never doesn't want to feel it. Somehow.

"Santana," she chokes, gasping, kissing Santana as well as she can through the girl's straining lunges, "Now. _Now_. I need you to cum. I need you to fill me up. So deep. So big. Fill me _completely_. C'mon baby. I know you can do it."

And just like that, as though her body is completely hardwired to please this girl writhing and whimpering against her, Santana feels her cock surge and swell as she starts to breathe in and out raggedly, hips stuttering and shaking without rhythm. Then she's coming, so hard and forcefully that despite how tightly she's locked her hips against Rachel's and how there can't possibly be enough space for them she's pretty sure cum is being forced out from between them.

It only intensifies when she feels Rachel shatter as well, the smaller girl's nails digging into her skin so sharply she _knows _she's gonna have scars there with the way the marks sting as salty sweat slides across them.

It's _fantastic._

The way Rachel's body molds itself and locks against hers, with their nipples straining against each other and their hips and lips fitted so _damn perfectly._

Santana loses herself in her orgasm and doesn't come up for air until she feels Rachel's entire body go limp against her and the desk, once tensed legs now suddenly weighing down on her shoulders and the girls arms practically melting into her back.

Rachel's barely aware of herself, mostly just aware of how Santana (_everything single inch of Santana_) feels against and inside of her. All the burning, and the heat, and the _stretching_. Even as the weight of the other girl still pushing against the back of thighs and spreading her wide falls against her in that decidedly post-orgasm kind of way and strains her muscles in way they haven't been strained since she first started ballet, Rachel's brain takes a moment to clear away some of the sex haze.

When she finally does however, body slowly coming down from its high, the position starts to become uncomfortable enough for her to try and move her legs. "S-Santana…" she grunts softly, slowly trying to move a leg off the girl's shoulders.

Getting the hint, Santana takes a deep breath, willing some energy into her body despite how all her muscles seem to want to emulate her softening member and just _not_. The only reason she's still firmly on her feet, besides putting so much of her weight on Rachel and the desk, is because upon cumming her knees locked. When she hears Rachel whimper her name again and push against her, she remembers what she's supposed to be doing, and gently takes Rachel behind the knees and helps the girl lower her legs down to rest on the edges of the desk.

As Rachel sighs in contentment, Santana leans in and places a soft kiss on her lips, pulling away before the other girl can deepen it, giving her something between a pleased smile and a sated smirk. "You alright…?" she asks. Her voice is relatively casual, but some concern laces through it, and there's a glimmer of the same in her dark eyes.

Rachel leans forward, arms going to wrap themselves around Santana's neck as she rests her forehead in the crook of the girl's neck and nuzzles the skin there, sighing heavily and letting all of her muscles finally relax. "Mmmm… More than okay, I assure you…" She hears Santana chuckle as she starts playing with the tanned girl's hair idly. Still not moving, she asks, "So… shower and food…?"

Her stomachs takes that opportunity to make its complaints known, and despite how flushed her body still feels, Rachel knows for a fact she's blushing hotly. To her relief, Santana only smirks and kisses her, drawling in amusement, "Cute."


	2. Chapter 2

"I didn't know you wore glasses," Rachel comments as she finishes drying her hair with her roommate's last extra towel. Not feeling too bad because she figures Eliza wouldn't care if she washed it with her bed sheets, she smiles when Santana gives her a lazy look over her black-wire frames.

"Mmhm," Santana answers neutrally, going back to flipping through the clothes in Rachel's closet. "Didn't really jibe with my Cheerio image, so I practically lived 24 hours in my contacts during high school. And right now…" She yawns quietly before smirking at Rachel, "My eyes are a bit too tired."

Rachel finds herself automatically smiling back at her. Drinking in the tan legs and strong shoulders she can see below and above the towel wrapped around Santana's body, she pulls the chair Santana had kicked to the floor upright so she can take a seat on it, pretending like images of _why _Santana had kicked it weren't playing in her head. "I had something to do with it?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Santana's lips curl up, and she pulls one of Rachel's old animal sweaters out. "You still have this? _Why_?"

"Would you accept sentimental reasons?" Tightening the strap around her robe, Rachel nods her head, "Try farther back in the closet. That's where the clothing Kurt picked out for me are." Ignoring the snort that gets, Rachel watches Santana do as she suggested anyway. As she turns, the red lines and raised skin caused by Rachel's nails crisscrossing her back and neck are plain to see from behind her wet, curling hair. Though Rachel had already taken a look at them in the shower (…and _may_ have contributed more when Santana had gone down on her under the water, giving her a slow, soft orgasm to make up for how sore she'd contributed her to being), she still can't believe she'd actually caused them.

But, Rachel bites her lip, smiling widely, there's just _something _about Santana that lets her let herself go.

Santana glances back, catching Rachel's smile out of the corner of her eyes, and quickly returns to digging through the closet before allowing her own lips to widen into a smile as well. She doesn't know why, really, but every time she sees Rachel smile she has the intense urge to do so herself.

And kiss the girl.

But she's getting to where it feels like she always wants to kiss Rachel so that isn't really the point. "Ay Dios, woman… You are a _toddler_, I swear…" She takes out a casual dress, lifting it up against herself and scoffing.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Santana, you are barely three inches taller than I am."

She gets a raised eyebrow in response before Santana moves the dress and points to her chest. "Hun, you're forgetting about the twins here."

Eyes going straight to the cleavage the towel is creating, following the last remains of the shower water sliding down the girl's neck and disappearing into said cleavage, Rachel's eyes go back up to meet Santana's, and this time she doesn't blush upon seeing the knowing smirk she's getting. Instead, she smirks back, licking her lips. "Don't be silly, Santana. I couldn't possibly forget about something that makes you putty in my hands."

Rachel's voice is so innocent and casual, that smirk so challenging, that Santana can't do anything but let out small laugh as she turns away, searches a little more, and finally finds a pair of black sweat pants that probably bag on Rachel a bit and a purposefully oversized, grey shirt with a lower neckline than she's ever seen the smaller girl wear on her own accord. It'll do until she can get back to her apartment, at the very least. She drops the towel without a thought and moves around the room to find her underwear and bra.

Letting her eyes slide over Santana's nude form once again, smiling once more at seeing the red lines all over her back, Rachel stands up and heads over to the closet to find clothing for herself. She gets wrapped up in thinking about what she can wear when she is then reminded of the dark, angry bruises covering her neck and shoulders. She groans, catching Santana's attention. "Santanaaaa… There is no possible way I can wear anything nice." And yes, she is in fact pouting as she turns her head to look at the other girl, already half dressed and picking up the shirt to put on.

Santana smirks, gaze drifting to the marks she's left all over Rachel's skin.

She's not exactly ashamed, and seeing that makes Rachel pout even more.

Shrugging the shirt on, enjoying the light stinging from her cuts as the cool fabric settles on them and taking the time to pull it down and adjust it around her rambunctious twins, Santana pads over to Rachel and leans in to give her a quick, firm kiss. Sucking gently on the plumped up lower lip as she pulls back, she reaches behind Rachel to find the turtleneck sweater she'd seen earlier. Actually stylish unlike every other sweater she'd seen the girl wear during high school, Santana smiles and pushes it into Rachel's hands. "Wear this for now," she kisses Rachel again, "It should work until we can find you some heavy duty makeup.

"Even if," she smirks again, hands sliding around Rachel's waist, "We _both _know that's not the last time I'mma be marking you."

The huskiness of her voice and the pure certainty with which Santana utters her promise makes Rachel shiver. Heat coils in her stomach again, because - because that's a confirmation of _future_. But, lifting up to only peck Santana's mouth before sliding out of her grasp, she walks over to her dresser. "Even if that may be so," she smiles down into her underwear drawer, aware of Santana's gaze on her back, "Right now I'd think you'd be more interested in chewing on food, instead."

"Spoilsport. I am disappointed in you." Clucking her tongue, Santana picks up the bedazzled hairbrush off of the dresser, starting to run it through her hair. Using the mirror on the roommate's part of the wall, she asks, "So, what are you hungry for?"

Mortified that her first thought is, _you, deep in my throat_, Rachel clears her throat to try to get rid of the feeling. "There's a new restaurant that promises to have a vegan menu," she shimmies into powder blue boy shorts, attaching her bra behind her back after dropping her robe to the floor, "But I think it's mainly meat-based. You'd like that, right?"

"I can eat meat." Santana shrugs. Grabbing one of the hair ties wrapped around one of Rachel's bedposts, she quickly and neatly throws her hair up into one of her old Cheerio ponytails. "Hey, did I have anything with me when you picked me up? From the bar?"

"Close the closet door." Rachel points.

Doing so, Santana grins as her purse comes into view. Opening it and making sure everything's in her wallet, inordinately glad she doesn't have to call her bank to cancel her credit cards _again_, she pauses, stomach flipping when she realizes that the missed call glaring at her from the screen of her phone is from Brittany. Blinking, frowning, and quickly keying it away, Santana stuffs the phone back into her purse and searches for her lip gloss. Applying some, she's about to smack her lips when Rachel's small hand suddenly appears on her upper arm, turning her around so the girl can kiss her.

Rachel's cheeks are pink when she pulls back. "I'm sorry. I just, I've never kissed anyone with lip gloss on before."

Santana feels like maybe she should roll her eyes, or smirk, but all she can do is feel her cheeks heat up a touch and a small, teasing smile curl her lips as she sets her hands on Rachel's hips and replies, "Mmm, you should probably get used to it." She kisses the girl again, and it's almost chaste in comparison to the vast majority of kisses they've shared up till now. "'Cause I totes plan on gettin' my sweet lady-kisses on as often as possible with you."

And there it is again. Implications of future repeats of this kissing, and holding, and teasing, and of course the sex. Rachel isn't foolish enough to think there'd be a lack of sex, and she can't honestly say she minds.

Smiling brightly, she has to bite down on her lower lip (which comes off as more coy than she intended) to hold back the excited squee that trying to escape. She nods her head, then steps back to put the turtleneck on. "Good," she says through the fabric of the turtleneck just before her head pops through and she starts to adjust the neck accordingly. "I would expect as much." She turns around then, moving to a different part of the closet to rake through her various skirts.

Santana watches her, one hip popped out and her arms crossed casually under her chest as she unabashedly stares at Rachel's ass. "Please, _please _tell me Kurt was a saint and burned your knee-high socks."

Rachel turns her head long enough to stick her tongue out at Santana, who winks in return, smiling innocently, before she grabs a suitable, plaid skirt that coordinates well enough with the turtleneck and steps into it. Zipping it up at the side, she adjusts it, grabs the brush from where Santana dropped it on the floor, and parts her hair to the side.

Ten minutes and a short argument ("Oh my god _why do you still own those things?! _You are _not _wearing knee-highs, Berry!" "But what about-" "_No!" _"Well then find me some shoes that I can wear with this skirt if you're going to be so adamant about it! And for the record I do not appreciate-") that was mostly short-lived and cut-off by Santana tossing her a nice pair of sandals that she didn't remember owning before pulling her into a heated kiss, they've hit the streets and are making their way to the restaurant.

And it's only 15 minutes after that that they're seated at a two person table in the corner of the small establishment next to a large window. Setting her menu down and drinking her water, Rachel manages to work up the courage needed to ask the question she's been dying to get some kind of answer to since waking up with Santana still at her side. "So… I think that we can both agree… That is to say, I'm sure that…-" When Santana gives her a questioning look, one that isn't completely mocking and seemingly genuinely curious as to what Rachel is trying to say, the smaller girl simply blurts out, "What is this? I mean, I know what _this _is," she continues hurriedly, in hopes of cutting off the sarcastic response she's sure she was about to get. "But… What are we… Is this going to go anywhere? I mean, you know… I just…" She trails off, fingers curling nervously into her skirt under the table.

There it is. Berry's need to have everything defined. And though she understands, and though she remembers everything she's said since she'd been sober, Santana _doesn't _know how much she wants to say.

So she shrugs. "Aren't you having fun?"

Rachel's lips purse. "Yes, but - "

"No butt. Unless you're into that. Personally, I can get into it." Rachel frowns, looking confused, but Santana waves her off, continuing, "Look. Berry." She leans forward, elbows on the table, meeting Rachel's eyes squarely, "Can you tell me you're _completely _over Finnwad?"

Red blossoms on Rachel's face. "I… It's been almost three months… I mean, it's over. Definitely. Was, really, even before he broke - let me go…" Her eyes fall, and she sighs, shoulders lifting slightly, "Before it ended."

Santana nods. "And you've had no one between him and me." It's a question, but Santana phrased it in a way it's obvious she already has figured out the answer.

Picking up her water, it's Rachel's turn to nod.

Santana lifts up her hands. "The same with me an' Brittany. Don't get me wrong, it was mutual." Her lips firm, "And I knew it was coming." She decides it wouldn't do any good to explain _why _it happened. "But you've had three months. I've had two weeks."

"I thought you said this wasn't rebound," Rachel whispers, feeling herself deflate. Though she knew the conversation may not have turned out in her favor, she still kicks herself for starting it.

"It's _not_." Her voice coming out harsher than she meant it, Santana watches as Rachel flinches, her walls quickly being pulled up. She sighs in frustration. "_Berry_."

Rachel shakes her head. "Tell me, then, how this is _not _rebound."

"I'm _getting_ to that." Biting back the next exclamation she can feel at the tip of her tongue, Santana quickly rattles off her order when the waitress steps up to the table. Then, waiting for Rachel to do the same, Santana reaches for Rachel's hand even before the woman can form a disgusted look as she walks away. "Rachel. Sweetie. Just because Britts and I broke up two weeks ago doesn't mean the relationship wasn't dead _long _before that. _But_." Santana _hated _this feely-crap, and she wasn't even sure why she was telling Rachel as much as she was. But as those big brown eyes gazed at her with _such _a look of expectation that it honest-to-god made Santana's heart skip a beat, Santana sighed. "Can't we just have fun?"

Rachel's teeth chews on her lower lip, long eyelashes fluttering along her cheeks as her eyes drop to think deeply. Fingers curling in Santana's grip, aware of how strong the other girl's hand really is, Rachel lets herself slowly lace their fingers together. "I think…" she starts, still trying to give herself time to make sense of everything but not willing to let the silence stretch on too much longer.

"Come on." Santana's voice deepens, cajoling, "You _know _we felt fucking _amazing _together_."_

They had. There's no doubt about that. In fact, if Rachel is honest, Santana had felt like she _belonged _inside her.

…But that's what this could be, wasn't it? Had Santana felt like _that_, too? That she _belonged _inside Rachel? And was that making her scared? Was her heart pounding as hard as Rachel's was?

Rachel's thoughts race. Lifting her eyes, she does her best imitation of Santana's smirk. "We have time before the food comes, right?"

And not even two minutes later, Santana can only thank fuckin' _God _that she'd agreed because here she is, in the restaurant's bathroom, Rachel's pants shoved down her thighs as Rachel's hands pull her underwear down just far enough so her fuckin' _amazing _plump lips and tongue can curl around the head of her throbbing cock, taking her farther and farther into her mouth as her hand strokes her like she was _born _to.

And okay, so Rachel doesn't know where this is going (the relationship, not what's currently happening because she _definitely _knows where that's going), and maybe she has more than a few insecurities about the whole thing, but she can't deny that whenever Santana calls her some sort of term of endearment (Sweetie, hun, baby) that her heart skips a few beats, or that every time Santana touches her it's like a shock to her running across her skin and down her spine.

_And_, she really, _really _can't say she doesn't love the way Santana's cock pulses and hardens inside her mouth and down her throat.

Which, she muses as she flexes her nails into the girl's thighs and slowly draws back enough to breathe in deeply through her nose before taking the entire length back into her throat completely and flexing her well-trained muscles around it, is kind of funny because she could never quite get into it with Finn but with Santana sometimes it feels like she can't get enough.

Rachel lets that thought pass, however, and focuses all of her attention on the job at hand— that being, get Santana off hard and fast and be allowed some amount of smugness for it.

Letting her eyes look up as she draws back again, the moment her gaze meets Santana's dark, hooded one there are hands in her hair and the thighs in her own hands tremble. "_Holy— fuckin'— shit_-" exclaims Santana under her breath as her abs lock up and she just barely manages to keep from fucking Rachel's throat right there and then. She's trying to let the smaller girl have control here, because she's aware of how often that scale is tipped in her favor, and though that's how she likes it, she also kinda loves when Rachel takes the initiative (like now) and does what she wants to Santana, how she wants.

Seeing Santana struggling with herself, Rachel pulls back almost completely, smirks, _winks,_ and goes to town.

She wraps her tongue around the head, then her lips, and sucks hard, drawing out a low groan from the girl above her before finally starting to bob her head back forth consistently, deep-throating the throbbing dick every other time and letting her throat muscles massage the length as her tongue continues to twist and swirl at every inch of skin it can reach.

Pulling back, off of Santana and _completely _understanding her groan of protest, Rachel replaces her mouth with her hand as she husks, "What do you like?"

"What? Fuck, _Rache_. Did you _not _just feel me practically cumming down your throat?" Santana's fingernails scratch along Rachel's scalp, Santana's hips twitching as she pulses in Rachel's grasp.

Deciding not to answer the obvious, Rachel licks her lips before dropping her head to slowly, slowly purse her lips around the crown of Santana's cock again. "Really?" she asks, pausing her hand still circling Santana so her thumbnail lightly scratches along the throbbing vein on the underside, "There's _nothing _you want me to do?"

Cursing, hips bucking, the muscles in Santana's arms tense as she _barely _stops herself from forcing herself deeper into Rachel's mouth. "Babe, Rache, _please_," she croaks, "Just… _Fuck_, _swallow me _so I can fucking _cum_ and _give you_ _what you_ _want_."

"And what is it I want?" Smiling, flicking her tongue around Santana's head to gather up her precum, pursing her lips around her to push down, slow, almost moaning herself as she stretches the muscles in her throat. Then, as soon as Santana is completely inside her, she pulls back.

"_Rachel_. Oh my _god_." Throwing her head back, trembling, Santana's hips jerk as her cock presses into Rachel's lips, sliding back and forth, practically _jumping _with the strength of her heartbeat.

Rachel's hand presses into Santana's abs, strong, unyielding. "_What_…" she leads, fingers circling her again, pumping slowly, "Is it I want?"

Fingernails dig into Rachel's scalp again as Santana groans. "My _cum_," she hisses out hotly, throatily, "_Fuck_, you want my _cum_."

And as Rachel rewards her by swallowing her right to the root, so deep and sucking so hard Santana practically explodes as soon as she's buried completely inside her, Rachel doesn't think Santana's knows just how right she is.

The force of which Santana's cum shoots down her throat is almost a little overwhelming, and Rachel has to work her muscles hard in order to make sure that she gets every, single, drop. She's almost positive she can feel the hot load travel down her system before settling in her stomach, and her thighs squeeze a little at the thought. But, pulling off slowly, letting the softening cock slide up her throat and past her lips, Rachel kisses the tip, eyes on Santana the whole time, before using her tongue to quickly clean the girl off, then gently tucking the flaccid member back into Santana's boyshorts and pulling the sweats back up.

Standing up, the smile on her face far too sweet for what she's just done, Rachel swipes her tongue over her lips once. "There? Was that so hard?" she asks, using her fingers to move some stray strands of hair from Santana's lightly sweat coated brow and back behind her ear.

She gets pulled in for a quick and smoldering kiss then, Santana's tongue immediately seeking out her own essence and taking back control. Rachel melts into her approvingly, hands curling around the girl's biceps and a smile trying to break out through the kiss.

Breaking it off, taking a moment to catch her breath and regain her composure completely, the taller girl finally unlocks the stall (and is relieved at finding the bathroom empty) before placing her arm around Rachel's waist and leading them out. "Let's go get our eats on," is all she says in return. As Rachel goes to wash her hands quickly Santana squeezes her ass, making her squeak in surprise, and decides she'll have to see if she can get that sound out of the other girl again in the near future.

They make it back to their table less than a minute before their food arrives, the waitress looking completely unimpressed, and Santana can't quite keep the little grin off her face as she reaches out a foot under the table to slide up and down Rachel's calf. "I suppose you think that makes us even, don't you?"

Pausing in her quest to take a bite of her vegan lasagna, the smaller girl quirks an eyebrow. "Of course not," Rachel answers evenly. She takes a bite and swallows before going on, lifting her chin just a smidge. "If anything I'd say I'm ahead now, after that," she deadpans.

"I'll let you believe that for now," Santana takes a bite of her hamburger before raising her water in salute, tapping her fingernails against the glass, "But, so you know, you're mistaken." Her voice practically smolders, "And I'll remind you why."

The heat that builds in Rachel's core at those words lasts the whole meal.


	3. Chapter 3

It's been about a week or so since the… luncheon with Rachel (and a day or so since she had coffee with the girl), and Santana is puttering around her apartment in nothing but too-short boxers and a tank-top that leaves very little to the imaginations. She had an interview earlier in the day for a waitress job and honestly isn't very confident about it. Though she hasn't been very confident about her job prospects period since coming to NY, because in this economy businesses are looking for degrees or some kind of experience, and Santana cannot honestly say she's worked a day in her life beyond a few babysitting gigs.

She's working herself into a frustrated fury, grumbling irately in Spanish while theoretically washing some dishes (see tossing them into the water roughly and scrubbing them more than necessary) when her phone buzzes on the small counter next to her.

Ignoring it, pretty sure it's Brittany again, the thought of the blonde doesn't help her mood any, and when the phone goes off three more times in the next five minutes she's three seconds away from throwing it into the wall when it suddenly vibrates non-stop, indicating an incoming call.

Grumbling, ready to give whoever has the balls to call her at 5pm on a Friday a lesson on Snix 101, Santana grabs the phone without checking the name and swipes across the screen with her thumb as she puts it to her ear. "_**What?**_" she growls, voice barely staying at an acceptable volume.

_"Um.. Hello, Santana.. Is… this a bad time…?"_ Rachel's voice on the other end quickly dowses the fire burning in the girl's chest and she takes a steadying breath.

"Shit. No. Sorry, Berry. I thought it was someone else." Which isn't totally true since Brittany knows better than to actually call her, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

_"Oh. Is everything okay?"_

She feels a little jerkish now, making Rachel obviously worry when she definitely hasn't done anything wrong and it isn't her fault employers suck so bad. "No, you're fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine." And despite how absurd that sounds even to her own ears, she is being mostly sincere. "So what's up?" she asks to change the subject. "You callin' for a reason, babe, or do you just miss my voice?"

_"Hilarious, Santana. While I do enjoy the rich timber and smoky quality of your vocals, I have, in fact, a specific reason for contacting you." _

Santana can practically hear the eye roll Rachel had to have done, but that's fine because she's rolling her own eyes. _Leave it to Rachel to turn 'Yes your voice turns me on' into _**_that_**_._ A few months ago she probably would have wanted to duct tape the girl's mouth closed. Now it's almost… cute… Leaving that thought, she replies, "Great. So spit it out." And it's not nearly as harsh as the words would imply.

Rachel laughs a little at the other end, probably because her mind went to the gutter (and Santana is proud to say that is completely her fault these days), before asking, _"Would you like to join me on a movie expedition?_"

She raises a brow. "Um… Can't you just ask if I want to see a movie with you?"

More nervous laughing is heard and she can't help but think that Rachel is biting her lip. _"No it's… It's something my fathers and I did when I was younger. We would go to Columbus early in the day, park, and then walk to every movie theater we could and see how many movies we could watch within the day. We usually tried to see a movie we hadn't heard about. It was very interesting, and I just thought maybe we could do that? I mean obviously we don't have an entire day or anything but-"_

_"_Sounds fun, Berry. I'll pick you up at 7?" She's getting better at knowing when to cut the other girl off these days, and it only took two other "dates" and a week full of sex to do it. Go figure.

_"That sounds wonderful, Santana. I shall be ready promptly at 7."_

"Cool. I'll knock when I get there."

_"What? Oh! No. Uh. That's alright. I'll meet you downstairs in the lobby."_

"Uh… Sure… But why-"

_"Gotta go, see you soon, 'Tana!"_

And then the line goes dead. Santana looks at her phone curiously, shrugs, and goes to get ready. She has about an hour and a half, which usually isn't nearly enough time but she figures if Rachel wants to go on this "movie expedition" or whatever they'll need all the time they can get.

Giving the taxi driver less than a dollar tip, having caught him fiddling with the rear view mirror to stare directly at her cleavage in that creepy overweight extremely macho foreign way a couple of times, Santana has to resist the urge to punch him through the window when he makes a crack about frat parties and her showing someone a good time that night; instead, in the middle of turning away, she _accidentally_ shoots the heel of her boot out to scrape along the side of his car. Then, striding off while smirking at the angry yells after her, Santana lets the moderately attractive college boy grinning at her open the door to the lobby of Rachel's dorm for her. After all, chivalry is even better when it was in support of her badassedness.

However, loosening her almost pointless scarf that only served to hide the hickies Rachel had given her the day before when Santana had finger fucked her into a mess in the coffee shop bathroom (she'd found herself strangely apathetic about trying to cover them with makeup after her shower but had decided not to look too much into it), she completely ignores the boy in lieu of looking around for the small girl that she may or may not have been fantasizing about during the taxi ride… Which had made the leering _that _much more obnoxious.

After all, movie theaters and sitting in the dark they provided? _Prime _mackage opportunities.

"_Santana_! Hi!"

Before she can react she has an armful of Rachel. It takes a moment for her to respond to the hug, because she just is not as used to this kind of thing as maybe she should be, but then Rachel is stepping back with a smile and instantly reaching for the girl's hand.

"You look wonderful, Santana. I mean not that you don't always look wonderful, but my sentiments are the same nonetheless." She's already dragging Santana out of the dorm quickly, purse on the opposite shoulder, and is rambling (purposefully) about the various movie theaters she knows are around the area and what they're showing, because the moment she saw the taller girl in the lobby she wanted to kiss her— had been two seconds away from kissing her when she hugged her before she could stop herself — and she had no idea how safe that train of thought was.

On one had they had done _much _more than kissing, but even the kissing had almost always been in relative privacy, and never in a greeting that didn't lead to sex a few minutes later. The moment in the lobby would have been… Rachel bit her lip unknowingly, all her emotions flitting across her features without her consent. _That's what couples do. That's what a girlfriend does. The running into her lover's arms and kissing her like that. We're aren't- I'm not- … This is incredibly confusing and I wish Santana would just give me some answers. Straight answers, for once. I mean I know she isn't particularly keen on talking about feelings and such, and she is a bit… emotionally stunted… at times… But I don't think she really knows how incredibly sweet and charming she can be when she wants to and I'm really starting to over think this whole relationship- friendship… thing… Oh,I don't know! I just want to kiss her. Why is that even so difficult? I can hold her hand and let her go down on me in a bathroom but I can't kiss her without us being in a room and about to have sex? This is just-_

_"_Earth to munchkin. Calling munchkin. Anybody in there?"

Santana's amused voice jars her from her thoughts, and she flushes upon realizing that at some point she had stopped walking and was literally just standing still as she got lost in her head. Blinking, comprehending the fact that Santana must have pulled them off to the side and was now snapping her fingers in front of her, Rachel swallow.

"Oh! I apologize, Santana. I was just thinking about something."

The taller girl smirks. "Yeah, I got that. Care to share with the class, Miss Berry?" Her arms are crossed and her eyebrow is raised pointedly, and Rachel is pretty sure her face just got hotter. She shakes her head and forces a show smile onto her face.

"Nope. It's nothing important." She starts moving again. "Anyway, come on. It's already nearly 7:30 and we have a lot of movies to se-" She's interrupted by a hand around the crook of her elbow and the quick motion of being pulled back and turned around, crashing into the warm solidity that is Santana Lopez's body. Then she's being kissed, lightly, on the lips, before they're separated a bit again Santana is winking at her.

"Better?" Santana asks.

Rachel's show smile turns into a real one. "Indeed. But I was very serious about going to see as many B movies as possible tonight, so I think we should get going."

"So you seem a bit desperate for these B movies," Santana munches on a handful of the popcorn she'd bought for Rachel, twenty minutes later, "What's that about?"

Rachel shrugs, taking a sip from the bottle of water she'd insisted on buying for herself. "I told you. It's a family tradition that I'm a bit nostalgic for." Realizing how that might sound like, Rachel hopes Santana won't read too much into the _family _part, she continues, "And I just… happened to have my evening free and thought of it after seeing an advertisement on the community board for a double-feature." Screwing the cap back onto the water, she makes a face and tugs the bag of popcorn out from between her legs when Santana goes to scoop more out from it, "Hey! This was for me, remember?"

"Yeah, but I'm the one who got it. Buyer's rights." Grinning, Santana leans over the movie seat arm between them, and as Rachel's distracted trying to keep the popcorn farther away from her, she snatches up the water. "Hah! Better pay better attention, Berry."

Finding Rachel's open mouthed expression of disbelief strangely adorable, Santana still doesn't let it stop herself from taking a drink.

"You… You have your _own_, Santana Lopez."

"Yeah, like swapping spit is anything new between us, Berry. Try again." Swallowing, nodding, Santana smirks as Rachel plucks the bottle from her hand, grumbling under her breath with a pink hue to her cheeks. Arching an eyebrow, Santana leans forward again. Letting her nose brush along Rachel's ear, she enjoys the shiver and soft exhalation that leaves Rachel's lips. "Or…" she lowers her voice, her fingers gripping tighter to the movie seat arm so she can stay hovering over Rachel teasingly, "Is it you're now thinking about swapping _other _bodily fluids with me?"

"_Santana_…" Rachel's chest rises sharply.

Santana chuckles huskily. "_Rachel_?"

Rachel turns her head to look at her. Eyes already darkening, the smaller girl lifts her chin to meet Santana's gaze directly. "The lights haven't even gone down yet."

It's obvious what Rachel's thinking, though. And, having been even more aware of Rachel's body since she'd pulled her close to kiss her to stop her brain from exploding, Santana can't help but dip down to draw her into another kiss.

After all, it's already been twenty minutes.

That's like, a fucking record.

And no, Santana doesn't care how that sounds at all. Because she's got Rachel's tongue in her mouth, Rachel's hand squeezing around her shoulder to pull her closer, and as the girl moans when Santana nips her bottom lip, she tries to figure out how long it'll take Rachel to yank the arm up and out from between them and pull her on top of her.

Rachel doesn't know what it is about Santana that makes her head go haywire, but it seems like every five minutes the older girl is saying or doing something that sends her mind into a tizzy.

This is no exception. And when Santana pulls away, leaning back in the seat with her hand calmly taking Rachel's hand in her own and tracing random patterns atop it with her thumb, the girl tries to take a moment to think.

She's never truly considered herself… kinky, so to speak. Sexually open and curious, perhaps, but not… That is to say… _She can't possibly be _**_ serious_**_. Sure we're in the back rows and there's barely anyone here and it will be getting quite dark and loud in soon but _**_still_**_. _She bites her lip, very aware of Santana's hand on hers, her words echoing through Rachel's head and keeping the light blush dusting her cheeks. _I can't. _**_We can't_**_. It's far too risky, and I would hate to be kicked out of this theater. Besides, we can go a few hours in each other's presence without… _**_that_**_. The fact that I- Oh goodness… I should have stopped this train of thought much sooner. _

She chances a glance over to the other girl, whose face is now awash with the pale glow of the cinema screen in front of them, the lights having dimmed and gone out some seconds earlier. She can see Santana smirking. Knows it's because she's aware on some level of the effect she has on Rachel, and it only serves to turn her focus onto those perfectly plump lips, which reminds her of Santana's _incredibly _talented tongue, which in turn reminds her-

Squeaking a little, hand tightening around Santana's for a second, she tries to remain subtle about how her thighs have squeezed together, but she can see Santana's smirk sharpen.

That fires something up inside of her, and, determined to make the older girl a little less smug, Rachel makes a decision. _Two can play that game. _

Casually she unlaces her hand from the tanned one and pushes the armrest up. A few minutes later, as the opening scenes of the movie finally begin to roll, she keeps her eyes on the screen, but her hand has, without even attempting to be subtle about it, gone straight to Santana's lap, and is slowly making its way to the apex of the toned legs.

The moment Rachel's hand hits her thigh Santana's brain fizzles out for a moment as her eyes glance back and forth between Rachel's hand and her face as she tries to look unaffected. _Holy shit, holy shit. Is she seriously going to-_ Then Rachel cups the slight, growing bulge, and she forgets to breathe.

Nostrils flaring, Santana's ab muscles clench in time with Rachel's fingers softly stroking up and down, exploring her as her body can't help but react to the stimulation. It was getting uncomfortable, Santana having to force herself to keep back the gasp when Rachel's palm gently massages her.

"Does it hurt?" Rachel whispers before kissing Santana's jaw. She's honestly curious, marveling, once again, at how _strong _Santana's erection felt.

Santana's hand rose to slide around Rachel's head, fingernails scratching lightly along her jaw and cheek. Santana's eyes, dark and molten in the flickering light, close momentarily as Rachel drags her hand up. She licks her lips. "It's not the best feeling in the world, no, and, babe. I'm not looking forward to jizz in my pants so stop or go all the way."

Rachel, momentarily pressing her forehead into Santana's neck, straightens and glances around the theater. She knows there is no one behind them, and the musical score of the movie is sufficiently loud that if Santana slowly pulls her fly down and… "Take your jacket off."

Santana jerks. "_What_?" she almost snaps, "You want my tits, now?"

Cutting her off with a hard kiss, Rachel curls her fingers around Santana's hands. "Shh," she giggles, kissing Santana again, "No. San. The jacket's to go over your lap." She can't help giggling again. That exclamation was the first time Rachel had ever seen Santana react like that, and for some reason, it makes the warmth still pulsing in her core at the knowledge of what she had been doing and was about to do again move up to the area around her heart.

Santana clears her throat. "Right," she grumbles, rolling her eyes as Rachel giggles again. Sitting forward to strip off her jacket, she can't help but groan in relief when, after draping it over her lap, she slides forward in her seat to most comfortable unbutton and unzip her jeans.

"Stop." Rachel's voice is husky, and her fingers slip under the jacket, along Santana's thigh, "I want to do the rest."

She stops, eyeing Rachel curiously as she slips her hands from under her jacket. Her breath hitches when she feels Rachel's own hand return to where it had been before, finishing the job of slowly unzipping Santana's jeans (the button already having been undone) and, silently urging the girl to raise her hips, shifts the waist band of the girl's briefs and jeans down just enough to let the thick length spring free from its confines.

Santana lets out a low, appreciative hum deep in her throat as she settles back into the chair, legs spreading automatically. The moment Rachel curls her hand around Santana's cock it takes a ridiculous amount of willpower to keep from whimpering. Ridiculous because she shouldn't be this sensitive. And she normally isn't.

_It's just the place,_ she tells herself, even as she can feel the hard rod throb against the soft, warm skin of Rachel's palm as she starts a slow, steady stroking under the jacket. It's really not subtle, because there is a very obvious tent, but the seats are high enough and there's no one around them at all, and frankly Santana cannot bring herself to care because Rachel's started to massage her head with her thumb.

"_Jesus fuck_…" Santana whispers hoarsely, one hand tightening on the armrest still down and the other going to grip at Rachel's thigh. "You are such a _freak_, Rachie." Even as a shudder runs up and down her spine and she has to lock her abs again to keep from thrusting into the girl's fist, she's smirking—though the smirk is trying very hard to become smile.

Rachel, however, does smile, even though she's keeping her eyes on the screen at all times. "Oh hush," she whispers back. "You like it."

And then, as if to prove her point, she starts to speed up, the pulsing cock now sleek with precum.

Twisting her fist, trying to remember back to what she'd seen Santana doing to herself, Rachel has to bite her lip as, losing the battle to keep her hips from jerking, Santana's hand suddenly slams around her forearm just as she squeezes below the head, nails biting into her skin. "_Wait_," she hisses, "Fuck,_wait_."

Her cock throbbing, swelling so hot and jumping with the pounding of her heart, Rachel can barely believe she's had it _inside _her. Squeezing her thighs together, her hand slips a little down Santana's length as more precum dribbles down, and Santana's hand tightens around her arm.

"_Fuck_. Shit - _Rachel_." Sucking in a deep breath, voice straining to sound strong, Santana slowly, sloooowly lets Rachel's arm go. "Slow, baby," she whispers hoarsely, leaning over to kiss Rachel.

Accepting her lips, sighing happily as they slide warmly over her own, Santana's tongue dipping out to touch hers, Rachel finds it amazing that Santana had obviously just stopped herself from cumming. She already knows that Santana has the stamina of one of Sam's favorite football teams, but the fact that Rachel giving her a handjob practically makes her orgasm right away makes her breath catch. And, for the second time that she can remember, she's telling Santana, "You're incredible…"

The girl smiles into their kiss, and Rachel wants to believe that if she pulls back, she'll see a softening in her eyes. Instead, a scream from the female lead of the movie reminds her where they are, and that the flickering movie light wasn't the most ideal to look at anyone to try and see through them. So, softly kissing Santana once more before pulling back to once again turn back to the movie, she strokes her thumb across Santana's head again. Moving her palm up, making it slick with Santana's natural lubrication, she slowly wraps her fingers back around her still twitching cock.

Suddenly, a thought hits her.

Where was the cum going to go?

Santana probably wouldn't appreciate it all over her jacket, nor all over her jeans. They had a couple of napkins, but Rachel was pretty sure they were mostly covered in popcorn salt, and she was too sure how comfortable that would be for Santana.

Rachel's eyes flicked over to look at Santana's tightly locked jaw as Rachel twists her fist around her again, eyes fluttering closed for a second before meeting Rachel's gaze on her way back to the movie screen.

Rachel sucks her lower lip into her mouth; it wouldn't be fair to stop now.

So…?

Gasping, feeling her inner walls clench down on nothing as even more heat bursts inside her, Rachel realizes she knows exactly what she can do. Feeling her mouth unconsciously water, she's surprised to realize that she's not ashamed at the idea that, very soon, in the back of a movie theater, her throat is going to be filled with Santana's cock once again.

She swallows thickly, bites her lower lip once, and takes a deep, calming breath in, exhaling slowly as she works up the necessary nerves to go through with what she wants to do. Ashamed or not, this is… This far beyond anything she has _ever _done, and she can feel her body trembling slightly in a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Santana looks over, seeming to hone in on the anxiety, and her brows knit in confusion, and even worry. "Rach?" she whispers, setting a hand on the girl's arm. "Hey? You okay?"

Instead of responding with words, though, Rachel just offers a small smile, before slowly— _slowly —_ slipping out of her seat and down to the floor. Oddly enough it's almost _clean_, and she guesses it's because this theater is smaller.

"_Fuck_, _Rachel_," Santana hisses, watching as the smaller girl settles low between her legs. "You cannot be ser-" It seems like all she's doing today is being cut off, because the jacket is shifted and Rachel's lips are covering her needy cock and all she can do is bite down on her tongue and suck in air through her teeth as her eyes slam shut and one hand continues to strangle the armrest while the other flies to entangle itself into Rachel's hair.

This is _not _going to take long. She was seconds away from shooting off her load with just Rachel's hand, and now in her tight throat and against her hot tongue-

And Rachel's throat suddenly fucking _ripples _around her as the girl swallows. Her lips pull back, tongue swirling around her head before pushing back down, followed by more fucking _ripples, _and Santana's toes are actually _curling _this is so insane because _Rachel fucking Berry_ is fucking _sucking her off _in a_ movie theater_. The pressure at the bottom of her spine is making her back arch, the throbbing of her dick only getting worse as she can feel herself swell.

For a second, she wonders if she's going to end up choking Rachel with how big she feels like she's getting, but then Rachel's tongue curls around her head, and all thoughts not related to her dick and Rachel's mouth leave her mind.

Because, _jesus_, Rachel _is_ -

Bobbing her head down and up in staggered sucks, the third time Rachel's lips fucking _meet_ her pelvis, Santana explodes. Fingers clawing at Rachel's scalp, Santana throwing her head back as her throat works to make a sound she knows, somehow, she really shouldn't, she's melting and pulsing and firing shot after shot of her cum deep into the throat of the girl she'd _never _have expected to have gone down on her in public.

Which…

As her orgasm finally ebbs, and becoming aware of Rachel softly licking along her tip, Santana barely gives the girl a chance to pull back before she's tucking herself back in and tiredly pulling Rachel onto her lap, wrapping her arms around her waist. Nuzzling Rachel's neck, she sucks in a deep breath. "Jesus. Rache. _What_…?"

Rachel tenses for a moment, resting her hands on Santana's forearms as she looks down at her. "W-was that too much? I didn't think you'd mind and- I'm sorry. I should have asked, I just really wanted to taste you. And I didn't to make a mess. I mean on your jacket." She looks like she wants to say more, but Santana shifts and pulls her in for a kiss, not even caring if anyone is looking at them at this point. When she pulls back, Rachel looks equal parts pleased and confused.

"It's was fine- no, fuck, it was _incredible_." She chuckles, shaking her head a little as she smoothes her hands over the small of Rachel's back. "I'm just… It surprised me. But _not _in a bad way. Not bad _at all._" Rachel smiles in response, glancing down shyly, which, what even? Santana takes the girl's chin in her hand and tilts her head back up so their eyes can meet. "Rachel, how the fuck is it possible that you can _give me a blow-job _in the fucking movie theater no problem, and then do- do that shy shit?"

Moving off of Santana quietly, Rachel can only shrug. She doesn't understand it very well herself, if she's honest. Santana makes her want to try things, do things she'd never, ever do otherwise, and she seems to forget about the consequences until after the fact.

It's dangerous, really; the way the older girl can affect her like that.

But it's also so… _thrilling_.

She sits back down in her seat, the taste of Santana still fresh on her lips and tongue, and she can't help lick her lips a few times and swallow, remembering exactly how it felt to have the girl's swelling cock rippling through her throat.

Looking over to Santana, Rachel intertwines their hands once more and smiles brightly. "You should know, Santana, that I never pass up an opportunity to practice a skill I have every intention of mastering. So." She turns back to the screen, stubbornly ignoring the heat and wetness coating the inside of her thighs by this point and freely smiling smugly, feeling assured in her little victory, so to speak. She also isn't sure why it's so important to her that she can make Santana feel good like that, or why she wants so badly to keep making Santana react that way _because of her_. But she does want it and it is important, and Rachel is trying very hard to keep things as simple as she can between them.

She's actually getting caught up enough in the old showing of what appears to be The Creature from the Black Lagoon that she doesn't notice the dangerous smirk playing across Santana's lips.


	4. Chapter 4

Santana knows from personal experience that trying to finger someone in a movie theater with the goal of getting them off is just as hard as wrestling a platter of tater tots away from Mercedes. Sure, the girl has relaxed and started snacking on Trouty Mouth instead more often than not, but it didn't mean Santana had gotten away scott free when she had separated her from her tots in tenth grade.

But that is beside the point.

It is obvious, by the way Rachel is squeezing her thighs together and stroking Santana's hand that her mind isn't necessarily on The Creature From the Black Lagoon. In fact, if Santana has to guess, from the pattern she's seen so far, Rachel Berry is the type of person who gets hot from pleasing other people.

Good thing Santana has no problem with pleasing her back.

But again - fingering in a movie theater isn't easy. And though Santana wouldn't turn down fucking her, that, sadly, really isn't something that would work in _this _theater. So.

Tugging her hand away from Rachel's and gracing her with a full smirk when she looks away from the movie screen, Santana slips down from her seat. Placing her palm on Rachel's knee, having to grin when the theater floor under her own knees _doesn't _crunch from stale popcorn, she grins again when Rachel's hands fly out to slap against her shoulders.

"S-San," she whisper-gasps, chest heaving as Santana pushes her legs apart, thumbs sliding under the bottom of her skirt.

"_Mmm_…" Santana rumbles, not even bothering to make it so Rachel can hear her, "You have the most _fucking _sexy legs I have _ever _seen on a midget." And, glancing up once more into Rachel's widening, flickering eyes, Santana leans forward to start nuzzling her inner thigh.

She can feel Rachel's leg tremble under her touch, the toned muscles tensing anxiously. The girl doesn't say anything, though. Just draws in a thick breath and watches Santana intently, eyes wide and pupils blown. Her hands are fidgeting, as though they aren't sure what to do, so Santana helps her out by pushing the skirt up a little more, ducking her head, and flattening her tongue against Rachel's panties, drawing it up against the wetness she can already taste there slowly.

Rachel's hands go straight to her hair, threading through it as best she can with it being up in a ponytail. Her abs tighten as her body jerks forward and her breath hitches. "_San-" _she tries to say, because there are so, so many reasons why she's getting wetter and she's not completely sure she'll have the amount of control necessary to keep herself relatively quiet.

But, well, she managed to do it (mostly) in the shower just the other day, so…

She bites her lip harshly as she feels Santana's fingers glide up her panties, applying just enough pressure to tease. Then the kneeling girl's eyes are back up, that smirk still firmly in place as she whispers, low and huskily, "Remember to be real, _real quiet_, sweetie…"

Rachel doesn't even get the chance to glare at her, because then her head is ducked down again, her panties are being all but torn away, and that warm, wonderful tongue is wrapping itself around her clit. Her upper body slams back as her lower body jerks forward, fighting against the hands firmly holding her down. A whimper tries getting out, and Rachel just barely manages to smother it as she bites down on her lips harder and takes an unsteady breath through her nose.

She should have expected this, says a little voice somewhere in the back of her mind. That voice is shut up rather quickly, however, the moment she feels Santana's tongue start pushing through her folds.

Shuddering, the muscles in her back are starting to protest as her upper shoulders unconsciously start sliding against the back of the seat, Rachel knows she shouldn't try leaning forward and crushing Santana to her like she wants to because even if it already looks… _Bad_, it would look worse if someone were to come upon them. So, able to agree that what she's getting from Santana's tongue is better than slight discomfort, Rachel moves twenty five percent of her attention back onto the movie playing on without them.

The other seventy five percent is on Santana's tongue sloooooooowly drawing up all of her to end at her clit, the girl actually _humming _as she presses against it, just as sloooooooowly curling her lips around it. Gasping, squeaking, Rachel has to take one of her hands from Santana's hair to shove against her mouth.

Santana's mouth is so wet and soft and hot that, as she pushes one of her arms under Rachel's ass to be able to get a better angle, Rachel's pretty much convinced that she's melting all over her. "_Spill all over my tongue_," Santana had husked the first time they had had sex. Yes, Rachel breathes in deeply as Santana's tongue is suddenly filling her, yes, she's spilling all over her.

Santana can't get enough of Rachel's taste. Having licked up what she had seen glistening on her thighs, drinking in the smell of her hot skin and arousal, everything is _so _much more intense as the girl trembles against her, her pussy _opening _for her even as her walls flutter around her tongue. Gripping Rachel's lower back, Santana almost groans in disappointment as she pulls back.

"Wha - San?" Lidded eyes gazing at her with what could be panic, Rachel blinks as Santana pushes her palm against the seat between Rachel's legs to lift up.

"Berry," Santana whispers into Rachel's ear, nipping at her earlobe; she can feel Rachel's body _lifting _to meet hers, "Do you want me to _eat _you?"

Rachel moans lowly, Santana's mouth crashing to hers as another, louder moan threatens as Santana's strong fingers suddenly stroke along her folds, gliding up and hovering over her clit. Rachel can taste herself, and she's just _that _much closer to cumming.

"I…" Rachel's hands dig into Santana's sides, "I thought you already were."

"No." Smirking, Santana shakes her head. Dipping her tongue between Rachel's lips, the pads of her fingers massaging Rachel's clit, she gives Rachel a husky order, "The next time I bury my tongue into your pussy, you are going to spread your legs and drape them over my shoulders." Seeing a flash of fear, she softly kisses Rachel again, looking directly into her eyes, "These seats are high enough, sweetie. Please. Let me make you cum in my mouth."

Swallowing audibly, eyes unable to leave Santana's, Rachel slowly nods. With a final soft kiss, Santana kneels back down and lowers herself between the girl's legs once more. As instructed, Rachel shifts so that her knees rest over Santana's sturdy shoulders, glancing around anxiously, terrified that someone will suddenly notice what's going on.

What scares her most, however, is that she can't decide if the idea of someone catching them scares her because they'd be in trouble and she'd feel mortified… or because that would mean Santana would _stop_.

Rachel doesn't spend too much time on that thought, however, because Santana's tongue is gliding across her folds, edging its way through them as a thumb continues to press and work her clit. She wraps her lips around the bundle of nerves and hums quietly one last time before plunging her tongue deep into the glistening, hot wetness that is Rachel's pussy.

She feels the hand in her hair tighten, and the legs on her shoulders tense up tightly, heels digging into her back hard. The pain just drives Santana on, though, and with the way Rachel's walls are squeezing and pulsing around her she knows this won't take too long if she doesn't draw it out herself.

Pulling her tongue back into her mouth to both savor the flavor as well as give herself a chance to draw in a quick, deep breath through her nose, Santana surges forward again to bob her head as she sucks Rachel's clit back into her mouth, humming before sheathing herself back inside her. Rachel's nails are biting into her scalp, the girl's hips trying to roll as her legs tense and tremble.

Santana's tongue is _everywhere_. Filling her, twirling around her clit, her lips sucking and wrapping around all of her. Rachel can feel the pressure and heat shooting through her veins that means she's almost _there_. No matter what part of Santana inside her, she realizes, humping as best as she can, her body pulling Santana deeper and deeper inside her - no matter what body part it's like there's electricity and _rightness _and as her orgasm mounts, teeth clamping down on her palm as air stutters in and out of her nose, Rachel knows she needs to cum, _now_, before she loses _all _control and starts fucking Santana's tongue, public place be damned.

But then, as she manages to look down, seeing Santana's eyes lift to meet hers, those oh so plump lips wrapped around the center of her pulsing, rising pleasure, Santana's teeth rake across her clit just as two long, long and strong fingers push into her - - and that's it. She's done. Frozen, teeth slammed shut as a low, low moan trembles in her throat, Santana's fingers stretching her clamped and rippling walls as her orgasm spills out of her, Rachel is barely aware of the fingers leaving so Santana can, indeed, have Rachel cum into her mouth.

Her hips are twitching and jerking, Santana's tongue slowly sliding in and out of her as if she's milking out the orgasm, but all Rachel can do is listen to the rushing in her ears, fingers gripping and releasing Santana's hair.

She's orgasming in a movie theater.

She's orgasming in a movie theater… And if Santana doesn't _stop_, it's highly likely it's going to happen _again_.

"S-stop, San- Santana please-" She weakly pushes Santana's head away, or tries. The girl is still stubbornly holding firm, and brushes her teeth across Rachel's clit again, making her jerk. "_San," _she hisses, and pushes again.

Relenting, lapping up the last of Rachel's cum, Santana finally comes back up, removing Rachel's legs from her shoulders and resting her elbows on her knees, grinning smugly.

When she was able to catch her breath, the shorter girl sits up a little, glaring down at Santana and her toothy grin. "Don't look so priggish. You just… took me by surprise, is all." Despite her words, Rachel is desperately fighting back a smile, and can feel the blush on her cheeks as Santana chuckles. She moves up then, back to her own seat after replacing Rachel's panties and pulling the skirt back to its appropriate place.

Leaning over, the ex-cheerleader licks her fingers clean, humming at the taste, before using her hand to turn Rachel's face towards her, bring the other girl into a long, leisurely kiss. They separate when the lights flicker back on, and Rachel quickly turns to the screen, frowning at the credits. "…I actually sort of did want to see that movie, you know…" she pouted.

Scoffing, the girl next to her starts getting their things together. "You _do _remember that you were the one going down on _me _first, right?"

Continuing to pout, Rachel sighs. "Well, yes… But…" She bites her lip, suddenly looking unsure.

Santana glances over at her, raising an eyebrow. Was Rachel seriously regretting it? Because they hadn't even been caught and-

"I'm… I'm not exactly sure how to say this… But my roommate sort of… what's the word she used? Sexciled… me?" Looking up to Santana, who is standing now, she shrugs. "She says I'm not allowed to come back to the dorm tonight. For uh… reasons…"

Eyes narrowing, Santana isn't completely sure why Snix suddenly wants to make an appearance and rip what's-her-face's eyes out, but she does, and it takes Rachel's eye widening in surprise and mild terror to snap the beast within back just enough to retain her cool. "Oh really…?"

"Really?"

"And where, dear Rachie, were you planning on sleeping tonight…?"

Shrugging, Rachel just blinks up at her. She honestly isn't sure. She had considered asking Santana, but she hadn't actually been to Santana's apartment, and she was pretty sure inviting herself over was crossing whatever boundaries they had set up. Or something.

"Yeah. Okay. You're coming home with me," is the reply, leaving no room for argument, even though, as she is pulled up to her feet and led out of the theater, Rachel certainly tries.

"Santana, I can't! I mean, I didn't pack extra clothes, or my toothbrush, or my exfoliating lotion, or-"

"I have clothes you can borrow - not that you'll need them – and an extra toothbrush, and I'm sure my lotions are up to your precious standards. You don't actually get an opinion in this, Berry."

Frowning, though she is slowly allowing a glimmer of hope-surprise-happiness to flare up in her chest at Santana's casual takeover of her night, Rachel finally manages to pull Santana to a stop right outside of the theater. "Wait, Santana." Putting her hand up, a smile crossing her face at the high-arched eyebrow she is being given, Rachel touches Santana's arm, "Then I insist on buying dinner."

The sharp look in Santana's eyes eases, and the girl grins at her. Leaning forward, knocking Rachel's forehead with her own, she turns, sliding her arm around Rachel's waist. "For a second there I thought you were going to protest that we had to continue the movie 'expedition'."

Rachel lets herself press closer into Santana's side than she thinks she should. "We _can_, if you'd like."

Santana snorts. "Just because _you_ were plannin' on spending all night in the skeeziest of skeezy movie theaters, _I _think we can do something _much _more fun."

Blushing at the girl's tone, Rachel smiles up at her, wrapping her own arm around Santana's waist. "Much?"

"As if I'm going to bother repeating myself. You know what you're getting into."

Rachel's heart skips a beat, her body flushing. She shivers. She knows. Yes. She really does know.

* * *

Santana's apartment is small. A studio, barely more than a living room with a bathroom and small kitchen, a futon serving as her couch and bed, and a TV/music system in one, she's not actually too embarrassed of it because it's better than Rachel's dorm room. Still, she takes longer than normal unlocking the door as her mind runs through to see if she's left anything out that she really doesn't need Rachel to see.

Of course, the giant box of condoms she'd left sitting out on the futon, the first thing to greet them as the door opens, was about three on the list of things Rachel didn't need to see.

Seeing the slight furrowing of Rachel's brow, though the girl's obviously striving to keep a faint smile on her face, politely moving her eyes _over _the box to take in rest of the apartment as Santana walks forward to drop it into the trunk pushed up behind the futon, Santana's actually quite interested in seeing how Rachel is going to address it.

"I see you're prepared for tonight," notes Rachel. Her first thought had been that Santana had been having girls over when she wasn't with her, but, well… _In… theory we aren't together. And honestly, I just don't want to think about that._ And she doesn't. At all. Because if she lets herself think of Santana with anyone else, she is pretty sure she will want to talk more about feelings and relationships, and the last thing she wants is to drive Santana away. The older girl had made it very clear that she "just wanted to have fun". And, well, as pathetic as it seems even to herself, if that's what it takes to have some piece of Santana to herself for awhile, she'll take it.

She doesn't see any other choice.

Santana, for her part, eyes Rachel carefully, nodding at her. "Yeah… You know the saying, always be prepared or some shit." She heads to the kitchen. "You want anything to drink? Vodka? Whiskey? Wine?"

"I'm not so sure sex is what the boy scouts are referring to when they say that, San," replies the shorter girl as she follows Santana to the small corner that serves as the kitchen. "And water is fine. I'm rather parched."

Snorting, pulling two glasses from the cupboard, Santana smirks. "Really? Can't imagine how with all that cum you swallowed…"

"Oh please. You know very well that semen has a natural salty quality to it and would only serve to make me thirstier."

The other girl raises a brow. "…How the fuck do you always manage to turn something sexy into… into _that_? Seriously, Berry." She hands Rachel her glass of water.

Rachel frowns, eyebrows scrunching together, her lower lip sticking out a little and her head cocks to the side. "What do you mean?"

Santana raises a finger. "No. Stop that. You _do not _get to look like that in my kitchen."

Blinking, Rachel continues to look exactly like "that". "I'm not sure I know what you're referring to, Santana…"

Except she knows exactly what the taller girl is referring to, and isn't going to stop because she knows what it does to her. From what she has observed, pouting, lip biting, and winking are some of Santana's more subtle turn-ons. And Rachel is always keen on using anything she can to her advantage. Especially if it means getting Santana to make use of those condoms…

Staring at Rachel over the rim of her own glass of water, Santana takes a big sip. Swallowing, she slowly sets the glass onto the stove and takes Rachel's away from her, all without looking away. Rachel's heart trips in her chest, but she doesn't back down.

Santana's hands slide around her upper arms, and Rachel suddenly finds herself flush up against Santana, the girl's hand sliding up to brush her thumb along Rachel's lower lip.

"Your lips…" Santana murmurs, her own curling up as Rachel shivers, hands coming up to rest on Santana's waist, "Do you have any idea how they feel wrapped around my cock?"

Rachel swallows, her tongue slipping out to wet suddenly dry lips; also swiping along Santana's thumb, Santana lets out a low, hot hiss. "And when I kiss you…" she dips her head, and Rachel lifts her chin to meet her halfway, "How are you so fucking _sexy_?"

Opening her mouth, the answer Rachel's not even sure she knows what she's going to say is replaced with a moan when her back suddenly hits the wall, Santana's body trapping her in place. "Well," she gasps, sliding her palms up and down Santana's side and back, "What about _yours_?"

"My…?"

Hands moving to grip Santana's waist, slipping under her shirt, Rachel shudders when Santana places her own hand against the wall behind her, completely boxing her in. "You're lips," she whispers. "Your lips on mine…" She presses into the girl's neck, letting her breath roll over her pulse as she continues to husk out, "And your _tongue.._. You don't know what your tongue does to me, San…" She bites Santana's pulse, thrilling at the way she can feel the taller girl's breathing pick up as she arches her back. "I get so _wet, _baby… So hot and needy for you."

"You got me, babe." The words tumble out of Santana's mouth before she can stop them, and maybe she should wonder what they mean, but she doesn't, not now, because Rachel's _fucking lips _are all over her neck, and her nails are scratching into her hips bones, gliding further down, dipping into the waist band of her jeans, which are feeling way too tight right now.

"You're lying, 'Tana." Santana can feel the girl pout against her neck. "If I had you… then why do I feel so _empty_?" Rachel cups the girl over her jeans with one hand, squeezing the obvious bulge gently.

Santana groans appreciatively, grinding herself into Rachel's hand and pushing the smaller girl harder into the wall behind her. "You really are a little cock slut, aren't you, Rach?" The massaging of her straining dick pauses for a moment, and not for the first time Santana is questioning herself. But the grip on her bulge tightens, and she's being flipped so that she's the one with her back against the wall. Then Rachel is kissing her, hard, with those lips that drive her nuts and that tongue that works magic.

When she pulls away, Rachel's looking at her with dark eyes and… something else that Santana can't quite figure out- maybe doesn't want to. "Only for you," the girl states calmly, with an amount of absolution that makes Santana's dick twitch and her heart race.

When Santana doesn't say anything for long enough for Rachel's heart to fall into her stomach, Rachel convinces herself she's just ruined everything_. _Fear trips inside her body, locking her muscles, so all she can do is look into Santana's eyes and wait for her to push her away and kick her out. Laugh at her. This _is _Santana, after all. The girl who had never _not _taken the chance to mess with Rachel when she got the chance.

But Rachel had just gotten totally wrapped up in Santana's body. In her mouth and straining erection. The erection _she'd _caused.

The erection she can still feel pushing into her palm.

In fact, Santana actually feels _bigger_, as if Rachel's words haven't ruined everything. As if Santana still _wants _her. Rachel hopes it's not for a quick fuck before kicking her out - a pity fuck. She doesn't know what she'd do if Santana only wanted one last pity fuck.

But suddenly, Santana's hands are pulling at Rachel's blouse. "Good," Santana husks, palms hot across her ribs and up, sliding back to unhook Rachel's bra. When Rachel gasps, eyes fluttering closed in a mixture of sensation and still being afraid of what she _won't _see on Santana's face, Santana kisses her. "Your pussy," Santana's voice flows straight into Rachel's core, instant slickness pooling in her underwear again as she bites down roughly on Rachel's lower lip, "I'm going to fuck so hard and deep that I make _damn sure _it's _ruined_ for anyone else."

Groaning, starting to feel her legs weakening, Rachel's core pulses at the fire that's roaring and snapping in Santana's eyes, and she nods, scrambling at Santana's fly. She _needs _Santana's dick. She _needs _to feel what Santana's promising her.

"No matter who you're _fucking_," Santana continues, growling as she rips Rachel's blouse off of her, barely waiting for Rachel to pull her arms up to help, hands instantly palming and roughly squeezing Rachel's breasts, "You'll be unsatisfied, _aching_ for _me_. And your throat?" Santana drops harsh kisses along Rachel's jaw, teeth almost ripping at her skin under her ear when Rachel's trembling fingers finally unsnap and unzip her jeans, "Your throat is _mine_. I bet if you _never _get the taste of my dick off of your tongue, it still won't be enough. Because you're _my cock-slut_."

_Yes_, Rachel almost gasps, almost verbalizes as the shock that what Santana's saying is _actually_, probably _true _hits her.

What… How can Santana _affect_ her like this? It's scary… It's scary but it's also doing _nothing_ to stop the pounding of _Santana, Santana needs to be _**_inside _**_me _rushing through her veins.

Santana's lips fall to Rachel's throat, one of her hands coming up to grip below her chin to hold her in place so she can nip and chew above her vibrating vocal chords as whimpers and broken, "_Sa-Santana_…"s leave Rachel's lips, her other hand sliding unerringly down Rachel's abs and under her skirt and into her underwear, fingers plunging into the pool of wetness that's waiting for her.

"_Fuck_, babe," Santana groans, violently biting down on where Rachel's neck meets her shoulder, the hand below her chin flying back to wrap around Rachel's waist as her body sags, "Fuck, you're ready, aren't you?"

Fingers scratching at Santana's briefs, palming her throbbing cock, Rachel's other hand curls around the back of Santana's neck. "C-condom. _Now_." she gasps, almost screaming when Santana's fingers slide up and down, probing at her entrance, "And your futon. I need - _I_ _need_ _you inside me_."

They don't waste any time. Both practically force themselves to tear away from each other, Rachel scrambling to remove clothing because _it is just not necessary _at this point and Santana grabbing the box of condoms from the trunk behind the futon, and wishing she had just kept the damn thing out because they both knew there was going to be sex tonight so like, _really_.

She's about to tear the package open, already pushing into Rachel and forcing her down onto the futon mattress, when the smaller girl grabs her hand, stares straight into her eyes, and breathes out, "No. Let me." So Santana stops, still standing while Rachel is sitting, lined up right at her stomach, and lets the other girl take the condom from her.

Rachel continues to maintain eye contact even as she lifts the condom wrapper to her lips, making a show of slowly licking them first, and sets the edge of it between her teeth. Santana's forgetting how to breathe, and her knees have essentially turned to jelly. She has to set her hands on Rachel's shoulders just to stay standing, and her eyes can't decide if they want to look at Rachel's own burning orbs, the girl's mouth, or her hands which have left the condom hanging from her mouth and are slowly pulling Santana's jeans down. She doesn't remove the briefs yet, though. Instead continues to massage the hard-on through them until Santana gets desperate enough to moan something deep and pleading in Spanish, and even though she isn't sure what the girl just said, the way her hips suddenly thrust forward is enough of a hint.

So finally Rachel runs her hands up and down Santana's thighs before hooking her thumbs in the waistband of the girl's briefs and sliding them down, letting the hard, thick dick spring free and stare almost directly at her face, hard and throbbing and already leaking precum.

Holding the condom in one hand, still between her teeth, and using the other to start stroking Santana's hard length, coating it in precum, Rachel tears the edge of the wrapper with her teeth, taking the condom from its package out carefully and letting the wrapper drop to the floor. Her eyes haven't left Santana's still, even as she opens her mouth and slowly licks the broad head. "You taste so good, San…," she husks, just before taking a deep breath in and swallowing the length whole.

Santana's hands shoot into Rachel's hair, hips jutting forward as her hold on the girl tightens and she groans out, "Fffuuuuuck, baby. _Yessss_."

Rachel lets her tongue wrap around the thick cock a few times, working her throat and bobbing her head a little before forcefully pulling off, and winking up at Santana. "I just needed a taste… Now let me put this on you, hun, so that you can keep your promise, and fuck me so hard I'll feel you stretching out my pussy for _days_." As she says this, she slowly slides the condom into place, letting her gaze fall as she watches in fascination at the way it slowly fills out to accommodate the pulsing member, hugging it closely in a perfect fit.

Her mouth is watering even though it feels dry and her core is on fire and when Santana finally, _finally, _pushes her all the way down on the futon and settles heavily between her legs Rachel is sure her panties, which she left on just so that Santana could take them off, are completely flooded and positively _ruined._

The thought makes her even wetter, because that word, god that word just reminds her of Santana's promise and-

She feels the girl's breasts press into hers, their stomachs glide together, and then hot breath is hitting her ear as a warm, firm hand molds to one of her tits. "I hope you're ready for me, baby." The hand starts to grope her roughly, and there are teeth all but gnawing into her neck. "Because when I start…" A particularly harsh bite makes her gasp and groan as she starts squirming under Santana's firm body. "When I start, _Rachie_, I'm not gonna _stop _until you forget _everything _but _me _fucking _you." _

Santana moves her hand from Rachel's breast and down to the smaller girl's dripping core, only taking a few seconds to coat two fingers in the plentiful arousal before slamming them into Rachel's entrance without warning right as she bites down harshly on the girl's neck.

Santana has a plan. A fucking _amazing_ plan. She knows how much Rachel needs her inside her, as well as how much _she_ needs to be inside her, but she also has the selfish desire for Rachel to cum as _soon _as Santana pushes into her pussy. She wants the _exact moment _her cock fills her to cement, to _prove _how much Rachel's pussy is made for her. How Rachel will _never_ be satisfied with anyone else.

She doesn't care how that sounds. Curling her fingers, pushing harder against the spot she knows makes Rachel shatter, Rachel's so hot and so wet, and Santana's cock's so hard and so _ready _to push into Rachel's tight walls that Santana doesn't even want to bother taking off the underwear that's rubbing along her as Rachel's fingers bury themselves in her hair, her belly and breasts heaving up to meet Santana's body.

Santana chews on Rachel's neck, moving up to the spot behind her ear. "Why aren't you naked?" she husks, humping her hips behind her hand, groaning as Rachel's pussy clamps down on her fingers, "Or did you want me to _tear_ them off of you?"

"_Ohh_," Rachel's fingernails bite into Santana's shoulders, "P-please. _Just_." Her hips slam up, grinding into Santana's hand. "They're. Not important." And they aren't. They really aren't. Not if they are inhibiting Santana's fingers from - from - suddenly another finger pushes into her, and Rachel arches, the back of her head digging into the futon. Who is she kidding? It's obvious that Santana could fuck her into a melting orgasm under _any _situation.

And, really, Rachel wouldn't mind trying out _all_ of the situations.

The sound of thin fabric ripping is drowned out by a particularly high pitched keening from Rachel, caused by Santana not only biting just behind her ear, but then sucking on that bite. Rachel can only imagine the marks that will left all over neck- again- and she's so, so incredibly thankful for unlimited access to stage makeup.

Not that makeup was really at the forefront of her thoughts, of course.

Santana has three fingers pushing and stretching her to her limits and yet Rachel knows, with a doubt, that no matter how wet she gets, no matter how much the girl even attempts to loosen her pulsing muscles, the moment that thick, throbbing cock, so hard and insistent on the inside of her thigh, starts pushing into her it will feel like she is being torn apart in the best way all _over again_.

But she doesn't have that yet. She only has those fingers. Those incredibly dexterous fingers that keep curling, and scraping, and _twisting _inside her, and with every thrust and push of Santana's wrist Rachel can feel her lungs absolutely _heaving _for air as her hips shoot upward. It isn't enough. It is so much and so _fucking good_ but it just _is not enough_.

"Tana _please,"_ she chokes out, cut off by a sharp curl of the girl's fingers as she scrapes across the rough patch inside of her before a firm thumb presses hard into her clit. "_Please_, pleasepleaseplease- nnng!"

Santana bites down again, but suddenly slows her pace, practically dragging Rachel back from the edge of orgasm as she begins kissing Rachel up and down her throat, murmuring the dirtiest things in the sweetest way. "You're such a little slut for me, Rachel. And you like it. You fucking love it." She continues to force Rachel to slow down, despite how the girl is literally thrashing under her, nails clawing into her back and curses and pleas falling off her tongue as Santana goes on, pulling her fingers out until they once more graze and tease just around the swollen folds. "Tell me how bad you want it, baby," she husks, kissing under Rachel's jawline. "Tell me how bad you _need _it."

"_For the love of Barbra Santana just _**_fuck me_**," Rachel all but screeches before she pulls Santana into for a harsh, bruising kiss with more teeth than tongue and her nails digging into the other girl's scalp.

Santana doesn't reply, but she does use the hand teasing the girl under her to line up her dick, which feels like it might explode any second (if she is honest) just at hearing those words, and slams into Rachel hard enough to make the futon below them skreak in protest.

And Rachel is screaming with perfect pitch, arms so tight around Santana's shoulders that there is no space between their chests, hard nipples smashing against each other as Rachel cums, cums the _second _Santana's length stretches her out so completely she can't breathe for a few seconds, her scream leeching all the air out of her lungs.

Santana's so high in her belly, so thick and long that Rachel can only concentrate on how she feels even _bigger _as her walls clamp down on her. "You," she chokes out the second she can, hips trembling as Santana sloooowly, almost painfully grinds down into her, her forehead pressed into Rachel's, "I never want you _out of me_…"

Rachel's not even sure what she's saying, her words babbling out of her as the burning of Santana's presence continues to ripple through her body. And though she understands the need of the condom, understands why her throbbing cock should be sheathed, she still can't help but feel a… A _loss _that she's gripping rubber and not Santana's skin.

"_Fuuuuuck_," Santana growls, her hands on either sides of Rachel's arms pushing under her shoulders to fold her even closer to her, letting more of her weight onto Rachel's body, her dick pushing even _that much more_ into Rachel and making her moan. "Fuck, baby," Santana growls, lips wet and hot on Rachel's as her hips draw back, starting a slow, slow pull back and thrust forward, "You're still cumming. I can feel you. Pulsing. So tight. So. _Fuckin'. _**_Tight_**."

Rachel rakes her nails down Santana's back. Pulling Santana's tongue into her mouth like a small version of her cock probing inside of her, she moans and sucks on it desperately. "Again," she gasps, tensing her abs and snaking her arms around Santana's shoulders, "Again. Baby. Please. I know you can – _Santanaaaaaa_!"

It is completely ridiculous how quickly Rachel is flying straight into _another _orgasm.

What's more ridiculous is that Santana is stubbornly maintaining that slow, steady, determined pace, gritting her teeth when they aren't against Rachel's skin and using her weight to keep the smaller girl from arching her hips and back too much and too fast— or at least, faster then Santana is willing to let her.

Her hands are pinning Rachel's wrists near her head, not actively giving her any other form of stimulation beyond the rubbing of their sweaty, burning bodies and her swelling length as it thrusts in and out of those tight, tight silken walls.

Santana doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing Rachel fall over the edge. Because when she does her entire body tenses, tightens, and yet _shakes _in a way that comes from the inside out. And she can feel every tremor _all around her_. Not just on her covered dick, as the walls of Rachel's pussy clench and release and suck Santana in seemingly deeper and deeper till she's sure if it were possible she'd be all but in Rachel' stomach; but literally, all over.

Because Rachel is holding her tight, pressing into and onto her for dear life, moaning and whispering, practically babbling out Santana's name mixed with begging and curses and Yiddish praises. Her entire body tries to replicate her core and as Santana starts to move faster, breathe harder, _need more_, the girl under her doesn't even have a chance to come down before she's sent straight into a third orgasm, gripping Santana so _perfectly _and in _just the right way_ that when Rachel sinks her teeth into her shoulder, she cums.

Neither of them are aware of anything but each other. Panting breaths, heaving chests, tight muscles and needy thrusts mix with irreverent kisses and teeth on skin.

And Rachel wishes, somewhere in her sexed up mind, that she could really feel Santana explode into her. But she can feel the girl swell impossibly thicker, and slam into her with so much force she wonders if she'll shatter into pieces.

When they finally come down, Santana collapses atop Rachel, muscles giving out and hands moving up just enough from her wrists to entwine their fingers together. She kisses anywhere her lips can reach, blindly continuing the softer gesture as their breasts move against each other and their bodies jerk in shared aftershocks.

Rachel swallows thickly, groaning a bit at how sensitive she feels. Her entire body tingles, once again she isn't sure if she can feel her legs, and despite it all every place where Santana's lips meet her skin feels like a burn. The best kind of burn, actually. Then Santana is slowly shifting them, slipping out of her. They both hiss; Rachel at the sudden emptiness and feel of the slicked up rubber running along her sensitive walls, and Santana at the sudden lack of pressure around her.

Eventually they find themselves completely moved around. The condom has been tied off and thrown in a garbage nearby, and Rachel is lying atop Santana, head on the girl's chest as hands move up and down her back. They're just basking in the afterglow, and the smaller girl is pretty sure Santana is going to fall asleep soon. But she's has a thousand questions, and one of them has been bugging her since they started this.

"San…?" she asks, voice low and quiet, even a bit unsure.

"Mmm?" Santana answers, her fingers slowly, barely noticeably still stroking Rachel's back. Rachel's nose nuzzles against her chest, and she smiles, sleepily, rewarding the girl with another murmured, "'M here."

Rachel swallows, and her body unconsciously tenses as she deliberately, almost reluctantly whispers, "You… And… And Finn…?"

Santana's steadily falling asleep brain sparks some life back into her body, and she stirs. "Finn?" she asks dumbly, eyebrows drawing together. Her hand closes and opens on Rachel's back.

"You… You _slept _with him?" Rachel's voice sounds accusing, louder than she means it to be, and she cringes, wholly expecting Santana to dump her onto the floor.

Instead, Santana sighs. "Oh…" she sighs again, more awake now. "You know," she lightly laughs, her eyes still a little muzzy when her hand softly urges Rachel's chin up so she looks at her, "I was wondering when you'd ask that. I mean, it's not like the Finncredible Hulk would've let me peg him and call it losin' his v-card."

Rachel scrunches her nose. It's not on purpose, but she can't help but blush when Santana's finger strokes along it anyway, her thumb coming to a stop, resting on her lower lip.

Santana licks her lips. "I didn't sleep with him."

That phrase slashes right through Rachel. She'd expected it, but it still… She didn't know what she thought. And then Santana is speaking again -

"Brittany did."

Rachel's body almost immediately coils tight, her nails biting into Santana's side. "W-what?"

"I gave him a blow job and let him touch my girls, but Britts was the one who had him blowing his load the second he came even _near _her pussy."

Rachel stares into space. Brittany? That… That made some sort of sense, _but_, "He _lied _to me?"

Santana's hands stroke Rachel's shoulders, Santana's belly filling with a quick indrawn breath under her. "Berry. Rachel. Does it _really _make a difference?"

Rachel forces herself up, her hand sliding along Santana's side to press her palm against the futon. She stares into now fully awake near-black eyes. "You… Why…" She can feel tears pooling in her eyes even if she isn't sure why they're there; she just feels so raw and, and _lied _to, and all of her insecurities from junior year has come rushing back, "Why would _you _claim to have…?"

"Because I was the school slut, okay?" Santana snaps, dark eyes glittering up at her, "Even more than Brittany was rumored to be." Her body is tight under Rachel's, her hands now heavy against Rachel's biceps as Rachel stares down at her. "And I had his dick in my mouth, so it's not like - "

"_Stop_," Rachel slams her eyes shut, flinching, "Just… Just stop."

"So it's not like I never tasted or had his fucking semen _inside_ of me," Santana forcefully finished, sitting up and pushing Rachel back, thighs tensing around Santana's as her hands thrust out to grab Santana's shoulders to keep herself up. "And really," the girl continues, voice rough and as obviously hurtful as she can be, "He had _no _problem also cumming all over my _tits_ - "

Rachel slams their mouths together, palms tensing and digging into each side of Santana's head. She _doesn't _want to hear this. She _can't _hear this.

_She_ - and suddenly Santana's erection is straining against her stomach again, Santana's tongue pushing into her mouth as Rachel lifts up, hand scrabbling to find Santana's cock. She doesn't have a condom, she isn't covered, but Rachel's already pushing down onto her, crying into Santana's mouth as her broad head stretches her opening. She doesn't know what she's doing, and she can't help thinking Santana doesn't know what she's doing either because Santana's gasping into her mouth violently, Santana's nails biting into Rachel's hips as Rachel swallows her inch by inch, almost crying at how hot she feels without the rubber between them.

"Stop," Rachel cries, shoving down the last inches, Santana pulsing so deeply in her, almost in her throat, "Just stop - - and _fuck_ _me_."


	5. Chapter 5

Saturday morning is met with grumbled protests and sore… well, everything. Rachel refuses to move from the futon, and is stubbornly keeping herself wrapped Santana, who is awake and, at least for now, patiently waiting her out as she runs her fingers lazily through the smaller girl's hair.

At some point over the course of the night, they had gotten around to putting the futon down and transforming it to a bed, so if nothing else they were relatively comfortable. Santana's not necessarily in a hurry, since it's Saturday, and she decides to take this decidedly rare moment of Rachel not being up before her to really look at the girl.

She's only had this chance a few times, but as she shifts to her side, Rachel burying her face in the crook of her neck, Santana can't help but feel some kind of pull in her chest. The room isn't too well lit, but the few stray rays of sun play over the ivy skinned playfully, bringing out the natural highlights of the girl's hair, and it's only in sleep that Santana ever sees Rachel look as completely relaxed and at peace with the world as she does right now. Even in the quiet of after glow she's noticed that Rachel always has some kind of tension around her; as though her brain is still trying to think no matter how hard she's fucked.

It's absurd, that Santana noticed these little things, but she can't help it.

She also can't, and doesn't bother to try to, stop herself from almost… reveling in the chance to just hold the girl without having to worry about awkward questions or sudden sex.

That she would ever, ever complain about the sex, but… Doesn't matter, she thinks, as she lets her fingers smooth down Rachel's hair and trail across the girl's cheek. The smaller girl's lips and jaw muscles twitch under the airy touch, but her only other reaction is to mumble coherently in her sleep and curl up closer to Santana. When the older girl finally decides to glance at the clock, she groans quietly. It's nearly 10:30, and Rachel'll freak if Santana lets her sleep in any longer.

It's already happened twice.

She moves again, this time rolling them so that she's hovering over the girl, arms at her sides, and starts laying soft kisses over her face and neck. When the other girl starts to frown and tries to shift away, Santana just tightens her hold, smiling a little as she says, "Berry, s'time ta get your lazy ass outta bed."

Rachel just groans, clenching her eyes shut tighter. "You like my ass…," she mutters, moving her head and giving Santana more access to her throat.

Santana chuckles, smirks, then lets a hand wander down to grope said ass. Rachel squeaks, her eyes flying open before she glares and pouts.

"That was mean. Make it up to me."

She gets a quirked brow in return, but continues to pout, and then they're in a small standoff.

Eventually Santana caves, however, because that pout should just not be legal, and she leans down to connect her lips with the pouty ones below her.

Kissing her slowly, deeply, feelings growing in her chest like a glowing heat as Rachel accepts her, Santana can't help but dip her tongue out to trace along her lower lip. "What… Exactly…" she smiles, softly urging Rachel into parting her lips, "Are you expecting as compensation…?"

Rachel's hands slide through Santana's thick locks, fingers massaging Santana's scalp. "About my ass?" the girl asks, red glowing on her cheeks. "I…"

Intrigued, Santana pushes back on her elbows. "Are you… Miss Rachel Berry is interested in _anal_, is she?"

"_Santana_!" Hissing, her legs and arms tightening around Santana as the girl half-sits up to hide her face in her neck, "_Please_. I don't want to talk about this."

Laughing beside herself, Santana nods. "Okay," she teases softly, pressing a kiss to Rachel's scalp, "No anal conversation. At least not now."

Rachel's fingers nudge her jaw, her lips sloppily pushing up against Santana's again. "Please…" she whispers, nipping at her lower lip, "I'm… Not _that_. Not… Not _now_."

"Shh…" Sliding her fingers up to cup Rachel's face, Santana gently kisses her. "Sweetie. I'm not going to force that on you. I get it. If we - no, listen - if we _do _get into that, it's not going to be unplanned."

Rachel swallows, her eyes bright as they search Santana's. "Okay," she whispers, swallowing again, lifting her chin for another kiss. Her mouth immediately opens for Santana's tongue, lightly sucking on it.

"Mmm… Sweetie…" Softly groaning, Santana pulls back to rest her forehead against Rachel's. "We needs to get _up_. Don't you want breakfast?"

"I can't eat you?"

Faltering, pausing long enough to stare down at Rachel, Santana licks her lips before kissing Rachel again. "You," she hissed darkly, "_Can't_ just say those things and expect me not to do anything."

Rachel scratches along her arm. "But what if I'm serious?" she asks, lifting her chin as her eyebrows quirk.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Try harder, Berry, because I know you're not." Smirking, pulling back enough to sit back, arms crossed around her legs, Santana waits for Rachel to groan, sitting up as well. "What time is it?" the girl yawns.

"…10:45, pretty much."

Rachel's eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but she shakes her head instead of dissolving into protestations. Then, smiling, her nails drag up Santana's leg. "Order in?" She isn't surprised when Santana's hand settles over hers, fingernails lightly scratching the back of her hand.

"Fuck that," Santana grins, "Have you _looked _inside my refrigerator?" She leans forward, tapping her finger against Rachel's nose, "No. You haven't. We can always order in for lunch or dinner. _Or_…"

Rachel smiles, lifting her chin to softly kiss Santana's finger. Her tongue lazily curls around it. "Or…?"

Santana swallows. "Yeah, no, grocery shopping can wait. _Fuck_, you don't play fair!"

Really, she thinks later as she ties off another condom, depositing it into the trash can and pulling a still heavily breathing Rachel onto her chest, if she had _known_ just how kinky Rachel was… She groans in the back of her throat as Rachel's leg brushes against her still softening dick… She's pretty sure she would have bent the girl over the choir room piano and _fucked _her voice out of her.

But as it is now, she sighs, grinning as Rachel's lips lazily nibble across her neck, she's kind of-sorta-maybe-somehow happy that there's no one else around to vie for her affections… You know, if she honestly cared about that.

Still. "_No_," she moans, "No. We're _going _grocery shopping now. I don't _care _how much you want my dick in your mouth. Shopping. _Deal_ with it."

* * *

About 30 minutes later they're both showered and Rachel is wearing a pair of old jeans (which she is hilariously awkward in) and a red v-neck that hasn't fit Santana right since freshman year of high school. She's laying on the futon, over the blankets, and watching Santana comb through her hair. The other girl has a pair of ripped up jeans and a black tank top that gives Rachel the perfect amount of cleavage to look at, so at least she isn't bored.

"I don't understand why you would wait till your food supply is completely used up to do this. Don't you have a weakly to-do list or something? You should really make a list, San. They're very helpful."

Santana is only half listening, paying more attention to her reflection in the mirror on the wall by her TV than "the midget trying to tell her how to live". But the smaller girl is still speaking.

"Santana? Santana!"

"What!?"

"You didn't answer my question."

Santana rolls her eyes. "I'm not making a fucking list for every little thing."

She sees Rachel roll her eyes in the mirror and raises an eyebrow at her.

"You weren't listening. Typical. I asked, after that, where we are going for groceries and if you would like me to make brunch for you when we return."

Dropping her brush onto the TV stand, Santana slinks over to the futon and crawls atop Rachel, pushing her on her back and settling between her legs, grinning. Rachel looks at her curiously, face flushing lightly. "Gonna cook for me, eh?"

"I never said it would be for free," Rachel shoots back, smirking up at the girl. Santana leans down then, drawing her up into a kiss. Things get heated, but somehow don't get further, and soon enough Santana is pulling back and staring at a sufficiently macked up Rachel Berry. She licks her lips and Rachel giggles. "Well, I suppose that will do-"

Then the buzzer goes off and Quinn's voice comes through the old speaker.

"Santana? Lopez let me in! I already texted you and I swear to God if you open the door naked again I will _claw your eyes out_!"

And, almost even before Quinn's voice is done crackling, Santana's phone is blaring Nelly Furtado's Promiscuous Girl. Rolling her eyes and groaning, Santana rolls off Rachel to snatch her cell up on her way off of the futon. "Q," she hits Call, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too," Quinn snarls back, "Now open the door before the creepy hobo that hangs around your apartment stops only _staring_ at me and makes a _move_."

"Fine, bitch." Shooting Rachel a sighing shake of her head, tempted to laugh at the giant wide-eyed expression of almost panic on her face, Santana walks over and hits the button that unlocks the main door. "There. You better have brought grub."

But the response she gets isn't the one she expects, and Santana has to stare at her phone after Quinn hangs up after she snaps, "If grub is two bottles of Kahlua." "Damn," she grins, tossing her phone back onto the coffee table and pouncing onto Rachel, "Guess we're gettin' takeout after all."

But when she goes to kiss Rachel, Rachel's hands throw up to stop her. "_Santana_," she hisses, "Quinn's at the door."

"Not yet."

"Not ye - _Santana_." Ducking, trying to struggle out from under Santana, Rachel doesn't know which she's panicking more about - that someone they know is going to discover them _obviously _doing… _Something _together, or that the someone they know who is going to discover them _obviously _doing… _Something _together was going to be _Quinn_. "Should I leave? I should leave. Yes." She nods determinedly, furiously blinking so the tears she can feel welling up _won't _show, not wanting Santana to see them, "I'm, I'm going to go."

She _has _to leave. She has to leave because she's absolutely convinced that if someone else is introduced to their situation, that Santana will realize what she's doing and drop her. Especially Quinn. Santana wouldn't allow herself to be seen _with _Rachel. She'd realize that whatever it is they're doing was a waste of time. And even if Rachel knew she shouldn't have been putting any stock into their… She couldn't even really call it a friendship, could she? It didn't mean she wanted be there when it died.

"Whoah, hey, _Berry_." Long arms swinging around Rachel's waist as she starts to push up from the futon, Santana pulls her back, sliding halfway on top of her, "What's the rush? I thought you and Q were practically _bosom_ buddies by the time you left Ohio."

Rachel stares up at her, searching frantically for anything she can see in Santana's eyes while trying to hide all of her anythings. She doesn't have an answer she _wants _to give.

At least none that wouldn't speed up the inevitable parting of ways.

"I…" she starts, mind scrambling, "I just… Quinn is one of your oldest friends. I'd just be in the way."

Santana gives her an incredibly unconvinced glare. Her lips purse, eyebrow rising, "Ahuh, and that explains your running like - "

A fist bangs against the front door. "I'm here, Lopez! So open the door and let me in before I kick my way in!"

"God fucking hell, Q, hold your tits! I'm coming!" Growling, Santana turns her head back to Rachel. "You," she orders, giving her a quick, sudden peck, "_Stay_." And then she is off Rachel, striding over to the door.

Heart pounding, Rachel holds her hands close to her chest as she stares at Santana's back; for the life of her, she doesn't know if, given more time, she would laugh or cry at the innocent gesture. Instead, she has no time to figure it out. So, she quickly sits up, runs her hand through her hair, and, as soon as Quinn steps inside, stands up.

"About time, S," Quinn grumbles, pushing her grocery bag at her as she sets down the gym bag she'd had slung over her shoulder, "What were you doing? Masturbating? At least you're not naked this time."

Santana rolls her eyes, smirking, "Sorry to disappoint. And no. "Looking past the blonde to meet Rachel's gaze, she winks. "Not really a need, Fabray."

Quinn stares at Rachel over Santana's shoulder, mouth slightly agape and taking in her appearance. Her hair is tussled, face red, and- and were those _Santana's clothes?_ "Oh… my… God…" she whispers, mostly to herself. "You're screwing Rachel Berry." Her eyes snap to Santana, who is looking carefully between Rachel and her. "You are _fucking _the _Rachel Barbra Berry."_

Said girl feels like crawling in a hole and dying. Her face is hot, and she can't keep her hands from fidgeting anxiously as her head drops down and her eyes shift anywhere but the two of them. The way Quinn said it… She just- she made it sound so _dirty. _And not the fun dirty, no. The disgusting dirty. The kind that screamed the equivalent to kissing Jacob Ben Israel, or something of that nature. And some part of her knows that - hopes that - Quinn didn't mean it in such a way, but as her chest gets tighter and her teeth bites nervously into her bottom lip, she can't help but just want to disappear.

Santana's eyes roam over Rachel, taking in how she suddenly seems to draw into herself completely, as though somehow ashamed of what is going on. Was Rachel ashamed? It seems to odd to think that, since the girl seemed to have no issue with being with her in public. Fuck, they had _fucked _in public and Berry had never once voiced a complaint that wasn't just part of the foreplay.

"Santana, what the holy _fuck_?" exclaims Quinn, eyes wide as she stares at her friend.

Taking Quinn's things and all but dropping them on the floor, Santana pushes the tall blonde out the door, shooting Rachel what she hopes is a reassuring smile. "We'll be right back. Check out the take-out the menus. They're in the far left drawer by the stove."

Closing the door behind her and moving down the hall a bit to the stair well, Santana crosses her arms and raises a brow. "Are you gonna like, freak the fuck out about this? Cause if you are, do it here."

Quinn, having come out of her shock some, glares at her. "What are you playing at, Santana? I swear to God if you're just using that girl for a quick fuck I will lose so much respect for you!" she hisses.

Immediately Santana's eyes flash and her fists fly to her sides. "_Excuse me_? You did NOT just say that!" growls the brunette right back.

"Yes, I did." Eyes narrowing, Quinn doesn't back down. "Judging by the hickies and marks all over her neck, you've at least been _gnawing _on her. So tell me." Her eyebrow arches up, "Are you sleeping with her?"

"Like that's _honestly_ any of your _fucking_ business." Breathing in deeply, Santana forces herself to pull back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Aside from the instinctual affront, she doesn't want to think about how much that comment hurt more than it should have.

Quinn scoffs. "Typical," she sneers, shaking her head. Lifting her hand, she flicks it before shoving her bangs back from her forehead, glaring judgmentally at Santana from the corner of her eye. "What, a week without Brittany and you go for the first place you can get your dick wet in?" She raises her chin, voice sharper, "At least tell me you're being _smart_ and using protection."

Letting out a sharp noise of anger, Santana pushes her palms into Quinn's chest, shoving her back, "Oh, like you did, Immaculate Conception Barbie? And _god_, this is PowerPoint Berry. What do _you_ think?" Ignoring the thoughts that Quinn's halfway right, she raises her hand to point at her friend. "I am only going to say this once, so you _better_ listen if you want to set foot inside my apartment tonight for _whatever_ reason _you_ crashed _me_." When Quinn goes to interrupt, Santana narrows her eyes, "I'm fucking _serious, _Quinn."

Scowling, her gaze down and to the left of Santana, Quinn jerks her shoulders up, jaw tightening.

"Good." Chancing a glance down the hall to make sure a little hobbit head wasn't peeking out of the door, she turns back to Quinn. "If you want to stay with me, you are _not _going to attack either Berry _or _me for the fact we're," _doing it? screwing? fucking? _"Having fun. _Fun_," she repeats firmly at Quinn's expression, "That you do _not _want to get all up on me afores I gets my Lima Heights Adjacent on." She makes an arrogant movement of her head, eyebrows raised, "Any questions?"

Quinn sighs, shaking her head with a tired look on her face. "None that I want to say now."

Santana knows that's the best she's going to get. She allows some of her anger and presence of Snix fade away, shaking her head as a slight smile lifts one side of her lips up. "Smart choice. Maybe you'll be able to make up for everything tonight after all. So. _What_ are you doing here, again?"

Not having heard anymore raised voices through the walls she's embarrassed to realize aren't very thick at all for a couple of minutes, Rachel almost drops the CDs she'd been flipping through on Santana's music system when loud, condemning Spanish practically snarls its way into Santana's apartment. "That _bastard_," the girl curses, a second later throwing the door to her apartment open and pulling Quinn in behind her. "You know where the cups are," she orders Rachel, "And bring the vodka with you when you come back."

"Oh," Rachel blinks, belatedly realizing that angry, hurt tears have started to roll down Quinn's cheeks, "Okay. I can do that, yes." However, she pauses at the threshold of the where the kitchen begins. "Are… Are you okay, Quinn?"

Quinn shrugs, managing a small smile. "Boyfriends _suck_."

_Oh_. Giving the blonde a commiserating smile, Rachel turns her back on Santana offering Quinn one of her bottles of Kahlua and pads into the kitchen. Remembering what had happened the night before, she sighs and puffs air up at her bangs. Great. It was highly likely she was going to end up getting drunk with both Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez.

* * *

It didn't take them long to get drunk. Rachel was first to go, quickly followed by Quinn, and Santana, though not nearly as drunk as the other two, is working a heavy buzz and loving every minute of it.

She's also loving how _clingy _Rachel gets when drunk. Like, apparently Finn didn't care for it, which, like, why would she not want this sexy little hobbit wanting to be all up on her all the time? _Seriously_. The girl is sitting on her lap, arms around her neck, and having a very deep and moving conversation with Quinn, who is sitting opposite of them on the futon.

"Quiiin, I- I _totally understand. _I just- I would- I would _slap_ him. Right now. Do you know where he is?" Rachel looks at Santana, all wide eyed and completely serious. "San, you- you're- You're f-from _Lima Heights_. **_You_** could find him. And then we could slap him."

And of course, Quinn, angry and passionate drunk that she is, is completely on board with this and looking at Rachel like she just solved world hungry. "_**Yes! **_This… _This_ is a good idea." Quinn looks to Santana. "Why didn't you ever tell me she had good 'deas?" And back to Rachel. "You have really great ideas, Rach."

"Then- _Then_ Santana can kick him. Or something. And-and- and you can punch him. I can't punch him. I'm a pass… pascifast… pasci…"

Santana smirks, kissing Rachel on the cheek loudly. "Pacifist, babe."

"_Yeah_! I'm a that," states Rachel firmly, nodding like a bobble-head.

As happy as she is that Quinn is feeling better, the constant squirming, and groping, and clinging that Rachel has been doing for the last hour and a half is starting to work Santana up, and frankly, she can think of a few things (and a certain hot midget with too-long legs) that she'd rather be doing. So, with a devious grin, arms tightening around Rachel's waist, she breaks into the conversation,

"So like, as totes cool as this is, I's got an idea."

Immediately both girls are looking at her, completely tuned into what she has to say.

It's… kinda weird how intense they both get when drunk.

"Does it 'nvolve kicking that motherffucker in the throat?" asks Quinn.

"I think I heard a song about that once…" mutters Rachel as her brows furrow in thought.

Santana looks at Rachel for a moment, brow raised, then shakes her head. "Yeah, okay, ignorin' that. No. Truth or Dare. Right nowz."

"Ohh, _yess_!" Rachel gushes, bouncing up and down at the thought, "I've _always _wanted to play, play Truth or, or _Dare_ with my _girlfriends_!"

Ignoring the girlfriend part because she's not too drunk to misunderstand Rachel's _unique _way of expressing herself, Santana has to squeeze her arms around Rachel's waist. "Baby," she nips at Rachel's ear, palms splaying on her belly and hip, "If yous wants to stay on my lap, you can't _move _like that."

"But I thought you _liked_ the way I… I move," Rachel pouts, voice loud.

Charmed despite herself and ignoring the fake, laughing gagging coming from Quinn's corner, Santana moves her lips up to Rachel's mouth. "You _do _have good moves," she agrees, pushing her tongue between Rachel's lips. She tastes like coffee liqueur and vodka, and Santana fully believes she _can't_ be held responsible for pulling Rachel harder into her as her hand slips down to palm her thigh.

Kissing her back just as wantonly, her fingers curling in Santana's hair, Rachel's lips turn up. "You know, know what?" she whispers again not quietly, "Your moves? They're like…" Her fingers stroke up and down Santana's neck, her plump, warm lips sucking on Santana's, a hand moving down to grasp and tense on Santana's thigh, "They're like _perfect_."

"Yeah?"

Rachel nods, smiling goofily, pulling back just far enough to look into Santana's eyes, her own slightly fuzzy, "Just as perfect as you _feel._" Her hand starts edging closer to Santana's inner thighs, and Santana _barely _stops herself from grinding up into Rachel when she realizes Quinn has stood up from the futon and tottered over.

"Bitch," the blonde mutters, hands coming up to drunkenly move Rachel's legs away, off Santana's, "I want… I want some _cuddles_ too."

"Cuddles!" Rachel crows, beaming, shifting and wiggling and moving in a way that's _not _conducive to turning Santana _off_. "Come here, Q-Quinnie!" She pauses. "Wait. I can… I _can _call you that, r-right?" The girl almost looks like she'd legitimately start crying if the blonde says no.

Santana, for her part, only clamps her jaw shut as Rachel's hand trails down her neck, her other snaking around her back. "Q," she husks, blinking up at the blonde, trying to ignore the brunette now nuzzling her neck as her legs spread to settle her weight on only one of Santana's legs, "What the fuck are you doing?"

The blonde blinks at her, pausing with one hand reaching to balance on Santana's shoulder. "I… I can't sit on you too?"

Santana's jaw drops. "I…" her face scrunches, and she turns her head to look at her out of the corner of her eye, "You're not going to try an' kiss me too, are you? I'm _not, _like, the lesbian-boyfriend rebound… _Person_."

Quinn's eyebrow shoots up to her forehead. "I don't think…" she points at Rachel, who hasn't stopped lazily nuzzling Santana's neck, her hand playing with her necklace, "_She'd_ let me." And, without waiting for an answer, she plops down, Santana having to shoot out an arm to wrap around her waist as well and plant her foot more solidly against the floor.

"God," she glares half-heartedly at Quinn, "What have you been _eating_?"

"Oh!" Rachel perks up, a split second of terror striking Santana when she leans back, Santana having to tighten her hold around _her _waist so she doesn't drop her to grab the glass she'd left on the coffee table, "I…" she grins, taking a big sip and offering it to first Quinn who shakes her head, holding up her own drink, and then to Santana, who tilts her chin up to signal Rachel to pour it into her mouth for her; her arms are full of bitches, _duh_, "I know what San's been ea-eating~"

"Aaaaaaand I'm going to stop you there." Her hand behind Santana's shoulder pressing firmly against her, a giant, eager smile took over Quinn's face. "Santana! Truth or Dare?"

Swallowing, Santana smirks toothily at her. "What the fuck do you think?"

Quinn's eyes narrow. Finally, she brightens. "Here!" she grins, pulling her phone from her pocket and slapping it into one of Santana's boobs, "Call Puck and tell him you've _always _craved his dick."

Santana rolls her eyes. As Rachel is the one more settled on her, she pulls her arm from around her waist. "Yeah, like _that's _original. It's not like it hasn't been in my mouth before."

"Gross!" Quinn laughs, shaking her head.

"Puck?" Rachel pouts in her ear.

Shivering, Santana can't stop herself from pressing a quick, loud kiss to Rachel's cheek again. "Don't worry, babe. Speaker, right?" she asks Quinn. Without waiting for an answer, she types in his number.

"Baby Momma!" Puck's voice grins after a second, "What can the Puckasaurus do for you?"

"Can it, it's me," Santana interrupts, "I jus' have Q's phone."

"That's cool. Same thing. Missing the phone sex?"

Aware that Rachel's fingernails are now scratching up and down her back, the girl's body tense in that drunken way that means she's trying to fully concentrate on a drunken mind, Santana scoffs. "Mmm… Nah. Why have phone sex when I can have the real thing?"

Puck laughs. "Ooh, Satan is gettin' _lucky_… Alright then, what's up?"

"Puck…" Santana lowers her voice into her sexiest register, trying to stop the laughter bubbling up in her chest, "I have _always _craved your dick."

There's silence, Rachel's huff loud in her ear while Quinn trembles with held back laughter.

Finally, "Fuck you. This is Truth or Dare, isn't it?"

"Right!" Santana finally lets herself laugh. "Puck, say hi to Rache and Quinn."

"Oh, fuck you, Lopez."

Rachel giggles, her body vibrating on Santana. "We love you too, Noah!"

Quinn wiggles her fingers at the phone, "Bye~"

Clicking the off button and pushing her phone back at Quinn, Santana smirks. "Satisfied?"

Quinn smirked at her. "Just getting started."

Santana scoffs, turning to look at the small brunette on her other arm. "Truth or Dare, Rachie."

Rachel's brows furrow as her bottom lip juts out, but then her lips purse for a moment, and she smiles. "Dare, please!" Both Quinn and Santana look at her like she's grown a second head, neither expecting Rachel to dive right in like that.

Though, out of the two of them, Santana feels as though she should be the least surprised. She smirks dangerously, taking a moment to think before replying, "Alright. I dare you to…" She pauses. She needs to start this off right. Lull Berry into a false sense of security or whatever. "I dares you ta lick Quinnie here on the neck. Reeeal slow like."

"_What?!_" shrieks the blonde, almost flailing off of Santana's leg, barely catching herself on the girl's shoulder and thankful for the strong arm behind her back. Santana just cackles and Rachel looks likes she's concentrating very hard on Quinn, the tip of her tongue poking through her lips. Then she smiles.

"Okay." And she starts to lean forward.

"Hey! Woah! I ssssoooooo do not like, sw-swing that way!"

Santana is still pretty much giggling like mad, trying to keep a steady grip on the two girls as Rachel is pulling Quinn in closer and trying to lick her, despite how the blond is flailing her hands and moving her head away as though that will somehow save her neck. But Rachel practically flings herself at Quinn, hands going to the front of the girl's shirt where she all but gropes her in order to steady herself, and slowly licks the pulse. Quinn shivers, though whether it's from being weirded out or vaguely turned on by principle can't really be known.

Then Rachel is leaning back, all smiles as she sways back and forth looking like she just won ten gold stars for a job well done. "You- you have really yummy skin, Quinn. …Skin… Quinn… Ooo I made a rhyme you guys! Rhyyyyme… guyyys… No… No that didn't work out…"

The two girls with her are completely cracking up, and Santana has no idea how she's able to keep herself and the girls on her legs from falling over, because somehow, despite getting drunk with Rachel once or twice before… um… everything happened, she had forgotten how fucking _hilarious _the small girl was like this. "Shit- Berry- _sweetie_, just stop, okay? Yous did good. Gold stars 'n shit." When Rachel turns to look at her she plants a firm kiss on the girls lips, causing her to grin and lean her weight into the taller brunette happily, an arm going around Santana's waist again.

"So now I ask Quinn, ri-right?"

"'Ave at it, babe."

Quinn looks apprehensive, but refuses to lean away from Santana and the promise of drunken cuddles none the less.

"Truuuuth, or dare, Quinn?" asks Rachel in a sing-song fashion that should not be as on pitch as it is when she's this hammered.

"Truth."

Santana scoffs and Quinn blindly tries hitting her in the stomach and only succeeds in groping her boob.

"Quinn, I_ thoughts_ yous didn't _swing_ that way?"

Quinn is about to retort, or try, when Rachel pops up suddenly, the top of her head almost smacking Santana's jaw, and bounces up and down again. "Oh! Oh! Do youuu have a-a gag reflex? Because I don't and-and I always wondered if that was sssppecial somehow or-"

The blonde's face is highly akin to a tomato and Santana's barking laughter can probably be heard from across the hall.

"_Stop_," the blonde throws her hand up, slapping it over Rachel's mouth, "God, that's why…" She blinks up at Santana, a slow, perverted grin spreading across her mouth, "Tha's why you're… You're, like, _with _her, isn't it?"

"Her lack of gag reflex?" Santana smirks, squeezing Rachel's hip as the girl reaches up to pull Quinn's hand from her mouth. "Maybe. Though, you know, the way her pussy _swallows _me - "

Quinn snaps her fingers. "Enough! I've already seen th…the condoms in the trash can." Her hazels eyes flash, a look of guilty knowledge crossing her face.

Rachel stares at her, her lower lip jutted out. "Are you…" Her hand raises, her pointer finger practically bobbing in the air as she points at Quinn, "Are you _jealous_?"

"I b-believe it's _my_ turn to ask the questions," Quinn talks over her, taking a quick sip of her drink before dropping it onto the coffee table. "Rachel," an evil grin crosses her face, "Truth… Or Dare?"

Rachel's lower lips puffs out, and Santana has to fight the urge to kiss her. She's… Feeling the alcohol a bit more, okay?

Brown eyes meet Santana's. "It's my turn again?"

Santana smirks. "Really?" she raises an eyebrow, hand stroking Rachel's waist, fighting the urge to close her eyes as she feels Rachel's body push into her touch. When did she get so… In _tune_ with her? "Duh, Berry."

Besides. Santana nods. Like Quinn would have to ask _her _every time.

Strong teeth worry a plump lip, and Santana's fingers map out Rachel's hip. She… She can _feel_ Rachel's body on her leg, okay?

Rachel rests her forehead on Santana's. "Truth…" she whispers, more like a gust of wind than an answer.

But, still, Quinn hears her. _The_ blonde's hand tightens on Santana's shoulder. "Truth?" Her eyes meet Santana's. "How…" she straightens, chin jutting out as the feeling like she doesn't want to hear what the blonde's going to say builds in Santana's chest, "How many times did you sleep with Finn?"

Santana bites back an immediate retort. Why should she care about the answer?

She needs another drink.

Rachel, as if reading her mind, snatches up her drink again. "Uhm…" she slurs, taking a quick drink before offering it to Santana again; Santana pretends it's just the reaction to the two girls on her that she pulls Rachel closer to her, "Maybe once a week…?"

"That's fucking _weak_," Santana snaps, staring at her, barely managing to swallow the drink. "I mean, _fuck_, you and I have _fucked, _like, two times a _day_."

Rachel's fingernails dig into the back of Santana's neck. "Maybe…" she starts, stops, then pushes her nose against Santana's ear, "Maybe you're _special_…?"

Santana stares up at her. Her hand tightening unconsciously around Quinn's waist, she's barely aware of the blonde groaning, only focusing again when Quinn's finger waves before her face. "San. _San_," the girl pushes up, her body sliding on Santana's leg, "You can fuck her _later_, okay? We're… We're playing a game."

"_Yeah_…" Rachel practically _squeals_, wiggling on Santana's leg again. "San, Truth or Dare?"

Santana licks her lips. Shooting Quinn a quick glare, she turns to Rachel. "_Dare_."

Hot breath leaves Rachel's lips, and her forehead knocks into Santana's. "How… How drunk are you, you?"

"I'm up there."

"Hmmm…" Rachel nuzzles her cheek. "Quinn…?"

The blonde sits back, making Santana's arm tense around her. "Berry?"

"If…" Rachel's nose drags along Santana's jaw, "If I dare S-San to _fuck _me in the bathroom you'd…?"

Santana's jaw drops open. "_Rache_?"

Quinn groans. "Wow. Not even being subtle about it? _Ugh_. Fine." She slides up, weaving as she plops down onto the futon again, "I can text Puck. He'd like a, heh, a blow-by-blow."

Rachel's cheeks are red and stretching as she stands up. "C'mon," she murmurs, flicking her tongue into Santana's ear, giggling as her hands grope and cup Santana as she struggles up, "We have her blessing."

Letting Rachel lead her to the bathroom, Santana pauses outside. "You…" she grins, nodding at the blonde, "'Re _really _going to be texting Puck, aren't you?"

Quinn raises her phone. "S. I'm drunk. And you're about to have sex with _Rachel_. How hard do I have to… Have to say _duh _before you get it?"

Santana's response is cut off by Rachel's lips slamming into hers. Gasping, allowing the smaller girl to pull her into the bathroom, she doesn't waste any time to pull Rachel up, propping her up onto the sink. "_Fuck_, Rache," she moans, biting deeply into her neck, groaning as Rachel's inner thigh rubs along her growing erection, "You're _such _the cock slut."

Heart hammering and body burning up, Rachel can't bring herself to verbalize the ten thousand thoughts racing through her head. Instead, she wraps her legs around Santana, arms around the girl's neck, and doesn't hold back the low, appreciative moan that bubbles up from her throat. She isn't sure what she was thinking when she made that "dare", but the way Santana is locking their hips together and grinding into her? She definitely _doesn't care_.

But it isn't enough— not by a long shot. So, threading her fingers into Santana's hair and tugging, harder than she intended but the taller girl doesn't seem to mind if the pleasured hiss is anything to go by, Rachel drops a hand between them, undoes the button and fly of Santana's jeans in record time, and takes even less time to drip her hand past the waistband of her girl briefs and wrap her slim fingers around the quickly hardening, pulsing length. She starts massaging it slowly, causing the other girl's hips to snap forward and her hands on Rachel's hips to tighten as she groans into her neck.

Then a tanned hand is down by Rachel's, shoving down her jeans and briefs just enough to let the smaller hand release her dick from its confines and they both shudder, part from expectation and part from the sudden shift in air temperature around them.

Santana is already pushing a hand up Rachel's shirt while the other is all but ripping at her jeans when there's a loud banging on the door and a condom being slipped under right as Quinn's voice can be heard from the other side yelling, "Remember to wrap up the sausage, Sanny~!" The two in the bathroom freeze, then Santana groans in annoyance even as Rachel is hiding her face in her neck and giggling furiously.

None the less, the taller girl pushes away from the sink, strips herself of her pants, and grabs the condom off the floor. She doesn't waste any time in ripping open the wrapper and slipping it over her hot and ready dick, but when she turns around back to Rachel the girl has apparently mastered the art of stripping because her jeans are on the floor and she's in nothing but her bra, with her panties dangling on a single finger and a smirk that makes Santana's entire body _throb _in need.

"_Shit"_, she hisses, before her arms are around Rachel's waist, slamming their bodies together as their lips meet in a battle of teeth and tongue.

If Rachel cares at all about the coolness of the sink against her backside, it isn't showing in the way she's pawing at Santana's sides and back, rolling her stomach into her erection as Santana grinds into her. Santana's tongue is deep inside her mouth, her lips and teeth meeting Rachel's over and over. The girl's already hot and wet against Santana's dick and thighs, and she doesn't protest, actually groaning and sighing out, "_Yesss_. _Please_. _Now_," when Santana lifts her back up onto the sink, never stopping kissing her to drop a hand and find herself.

Santana lines herself up. "You ready, baby?" she hisses, her other hand sliding down to palm Rachel's lower back, "God, are you ready for me to take you?"

"_Yes_, 'T-'Tana," Rachel moans, furiously humping herself into the thick head of Santana's cock, arms strong and desperate around her shoulders as she drops her head to nuzzle and kiss Santana's neck, her teeth sharp against her skin. "Fill me. Please. I -" This is her first drunken sex. This is the first time alcohol has narrowed her full focus to Santana and what she's _doing _with her. _To _her. "_I need you_."

Santana's heart is pounding, barely able to think as she slips her fingers along Rachel, fisting her dick a second later to coat herself. "You want me?" she murmurs, nipping at Rachel's ear, digging her fingernails into Rachel's back. She leans back on her heels as she pulls Rachel closer to the edge of the sink, now firmly throbbing against her.

Santana's head is spreading her, insistent at her entrance. Trembling, trying to bear down by tightening her arms around Santana's shoulders and pulling herself closer, _needing _to put more of her weight into shoving Santana in herself, legs tensing around Santana's waist, Rachel whimpers. "_Always_," she gasps, babbling _anything _she can think of to just - to just -

And Santana is pushing into her, hands gripping her hips as she pushes herself upwards to spread the pulsing walls spiraling down around her. She's gritting her teeth, fighting the urge to just _slam _into Rachel, stretch her out as fast as she's done before. But they've had plenty of fast and furious fucking sessions lately; and somehow, even with the alcohol still swirling at the edges of her awareness, when she finally seats herself fully into Rachel, the girl practically _mewling_, breath puffing against her neck and body swallowing her completely, Santana doesn't care if Quinn's outside the door waiting for them.

* * *

Outside Quinn is sitting on the couch, texting Puck and going between being morbidly curious and vaguely disgusted, because Santana 'fucking' Lopez is currently _fucking _Rachel 'man hands' Berry, in the bathroom, that has thin walls, and a cheap door, and-

"Oh _Yahweh-!"_

Is apparently doing a great job because although she doesn't understand Yiddish Rachel is definitely not speaking English.

She gets up and walks over to the kitchen, wondering if A. Santana has bacon, and B. if she has enough time cook some up.

* * *

Rachel's entire body is trembling from inside out, nails digging into Santana's shoulders as her hips try desperately to cant back and forth at a much, much faster pace than Santana is allowing. But the other girl is stubborn, gripping her tight and keeping their upper bodies rubbing together, hard nipples colliding, while she sets an agonizingly steady but so, so _deep _of a pace. Every thrust is a friction filled grind, heavy and strong and sure, and her walls are fluttering and clamping down on the iron-like rod even as her muscles are stretched and her swears she can feel Santana in her belly every time she buries herself to the root.

"_More_, San- _fuck me. Please_." It's ridiculous how much she lets herself beg for it, but between the alcohol and the heady smell of sex mixed with Santana's own scent, it just becomes one more thing on the long list of things that Rachel isn't capable of caring about.

"_Shit_, I know, baby, I know," Santana husks out, nibbling up and down Rachel's neck for kissing her quickly and too sweetly for what they're doing and how they're doing it. "Jus' lemme make you feel good, okay, baby? Can you let me do that?" And she doesn't know why, of all times and all places, she suddenly wants to take a little extra time and care, but it doesn't matter. If Santana wants to take Rachel hard and slow— really take advantage of and _feel _how the smaller girl tightens and shudders and _fucking pulses _around her, then _she will_.

Rachel nods, swallowing thickly and letting her head fall against Santana's shoulder, biting and kissing and sucking on whatever skin her lips can touch as she continues to all but rip into the taller girl's back with her nails, loving how she can feel those powerful muscles ripple with every thrust. Everything is spinning. Spinning and revolving around how she feels— how she hopes she's making Santana feel as she consciously works her core muscles and walls, purposefully gripping at the thick cock inside of her every time it starts to pull out, then practically _rippling _when it's worked back in, all the slick heat and wet sounds drumming through her ears and rolling across her nerves.

And when Santana starts to speed up— really starts to slam into her just as deliberately as before but with less time between the knocking of their hips, all Rachel can do is hold on tighter and bite down harder.

Thrusting in, pausing for a second before dragging herself out until she can feel Rachel squeezing around her head, Santana pistons back in until she hits the back of Rachel's pussy, growling as Rachel chews on her neck. Rachel's so wet and tight, so _perfect_ that Santana slam into her and just grinds into her, trying to force herself _farther _into her.

And it's like Rachel wants her to, too, because it's like she's scooting off of the sink, as if she wants _nothing _between her and Santana. Like she fucking wants Santana to hold her up by her cock. And, _fuck_, if she honestly thought she could, Santana would have tried it.

Instead, knowing she has a shower rug in front of the shower, Santana husks out, "Fuck, _one second_."

When Santana's hands suddenly wrap around her waist, holding her into place as she pulls back, Rachel can't hold the "_No_," that leaves her mouth when Santana suddenly pulls out of her. "What?" She's empty and she _doesn't_ like it, "'_Tana_?"

"_Shh_." Santana's lips are against hers, kissing her violently, "I know baby. I know. But. I need you _closer_." Swallowing, tottering back, Santana's surprised she even knows how to walk as her cock's twitching in time with her heartbeat, wanting back inside Rachel; catching Rachel's hand, she tugs her down, moving them backwards. Then, dropping, hissing as her bare back hits the side of the bathtub (and, _fuck_, when did her shirt come off? Rachel was a fuckin' _ninja_), she pulls Rachel down with her. "No, wait," she grunts, jerking as Rachel immediately tries to straddle her, "No, turn around. Re- _fuck_, baby_ - _reverse cowgirl."

Reverse cowgirl? Not quite sure what's going on aside from the throbbing of her center, Rachel lets Santana's hands along her waist turn her around. But, as soon as her arm wraps around her waist, one of Santana's hands going down to situate them again, Rachel gets it because she's suddenly _full _again, stretched and shaking, Santana's legs pushed between hers as she sits on her thighs, pulled back into Santana's chest.

Santana's so, so high in her belly. And when Santana's hand drops to skim along her pulsing clit, Rachel cries out in Yiddish again as she cums, an arm thrown up to wrap her palm around the back of Santana's neck as Santana's teeth feel like they're _cutting _into her shoulder. She's coming, hips rolling against the thick iron rod deep inside her, but all she can think about is that Santana isn't _done_. They aren't _done_.

She's barely given any time to come down before Santana's slamming up into her again, though, and she pitches forward, only the taller girl's arm around her stomach keeping her in place before she can find her balance again and steady herself. She cries out when she feels skilled fingers working her clit slowly, even as she's being pounded into, and then the arm around her waist is being shifted, and Santana's hand is cupping one of her breasts before fingers and a thumb are _pinching _and _twisting_ and the whole time there are bruising kisses along her neck and her back.

Not wanting to be out done, Rachel tenses her thighs and slams down on the girl, grinding forward and back and working her inner walls as the hand not wrapped up around Santana's neck goes down to one of the strong thighs and flexes her nails into it in time with the beating of her— no, _their _— hearts, right on the main nerve.

"Nng- _fuck, _Rachie- babe. Jus' like that," grunts Santana, panting heavily and firm breasts pushing into Rachel's back. She can feel the hard nipples rub across her, and the fingers on her clit are working faster, almost desperately as the pace becomes more fierce.

They both lean back, Rachel into Santana and Santana against the bathtub, barely enough space between them to breathe it seems. Rachel is on fire, Santana's entire body is trembling from the constant shocks all of her nerves are being hit with, and they both can feel themselves rocketing towards the edge.

It's when Rachel twists her head and clamps down around the quickly swelling dick inside of her, clawing into Santana's thigh while pulling the girl into a heady kiss that they both finally fall over, bodies tensing and locking up even as their hips jolt and rock without form or rhythm and Santana sucks on Rachel's tongue while she pinches the smaller girl's clit and nipple at the same time.

* * *

Looking up from her phone and pausing the crunching of her bacon, Quinn waits to see if there's going to be anymore vocal outbursts to come from the bathroom. Hearing nothing but a smattering of what sounds like Rachel's laughter, the deeper sounds of Santana's voice join in a second later.

And, crap. It's, like, _almost _cute.

That is, Quinn rolls her eyes and finishes up her text to Puck that they're _finally _done, if they hadn't just been having what had sounded like nasty-ass sex (and seriously? No condom if Quinn hadn't given them one? That seemed to be… Like… Quinn squints and chews on her bacon as she searches for the word she wants… Oh! Stupid!). Picking up her glass of vodka she'd already drained twice since the girls had disappeared into the bathroom, she takes a big sip.

"You two totally owe me a game of Truth or Dare," she calls out, proud when it barely slurs, "And, hurry up! I need to pee and I will go ahead and… And claw yer eyes out if I see anything dis…" The bathroom door opens, and Quinn straightens, pointing at an even _more_ covered in hickies Rachel, Santana behind her, the two looking disheveled but stupidly _sated_, both obviously not having bothered putting their bras back on, "Disgusting! _Damn_, S! You sure you're not the vampire and not… Not Tina?"

Santana drapes her arm around Rachel's shoulder. Pushing sweaty hair back from her forehead, she smirks. "You're not the only whose skin tastes amazing, Q. Now. Gimme that vodka. I's need more of my buzz to get back into the game."

Rachel, a blush high on her cheeks but nodding along, waves at Quinn as she teeters her way over to the bathroom. When the blonde catches Rachel's silly, adoring whispered, "This is the best party _ever_," she groans and tries to speed up.

Please God, she prays, _please_ let the bathroom be usable…


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **This chapter contains past Quinntana. Aside from that, all Pezberry~ :D

* * *

Munching on her bok choy, Rachel is badly stifling her giggling as Quinn is doing the _worst _amateur belly dancing routine ever produced.

"No," Santana doesn't bother to hold in her amusement, ribbing her on, "Q. Use your hips! Your _hips_! Not those pudgy abs!"

Quinn growls at her over her shoulder. "You…" she pants, glaring at her, "You wanna be so critical, _you _do this."

"Nuh-uh." Standing up from the futon, having to pause a second to make sure she doesn't fall over, Santana shuffles over to the music system to turn off the radio; turning back around, she smirks at the blonde, "That was _your _dare. No repeating dares, remember?"

"Yeah!" Bouncing and dropping her chopsticks into the carton of Chinese takeout, Rachel has to take two tries before she can grab Quinn's glass of vodka, brandishing it up at her when she slinks over, wiping sweat from her brow, "But… But I think you did a _job_, Quinnie. Uhm… A… A _good _job!"

Taking her glass, Quinn stares at it. "Ew, no, water. San? Get me some water? And." She smiles at Rachel, ignoring Santana's scoff, "_Thank_ you. Rachel. You're forgiven for abandoning me earlier."

Rachel sits back. "I… I _abandoned_ you?" Dismay runs through her veins, and she reaches out, grabbing Quinn's hand. "I'm… _So_ sorry."

"She means when we fucked, babe," Santana drops down next to her, sliding her arm around her waist after handing Quinn a glass of water. She pulls her in close, trying to ignore the spark of what almost-maybe-kinda felt like triumph when Rachel dropped Quinn's hand to snuggle into her, "Don't listen to her."

"Don't listen to me," Quinn parrots, rolling her eyes. Finishing the water, she grabs her vodka again. "Okay." Her eyes center on Rachel, "Truth or Dare."

Biting her lip, a hand now resting on Santana's stomach as she revels in all the cuddle time she's getting tonight, Rachel hums in thought, then, "Dare. Dare, dare, dare." She sits up a little so that she can nod enthusiastically, and the hand that was on Santana's stomach has dropped high up on the girl's thigh, where it seems to instinctually tighten just a touch. Santana's leg jumps a little, her arm around Rachel's waist squeezing, but otherwise the taller girl makes no real reaction.

Quinn's eyes narrow as her tongue peeks from between her lips. She takes a drink from the vodka that the smaller brunette had tried handing her before, then smirks. "Okay. I dare youuu… tooooo… sing…" And of course Rachel's eyes light up at that word, hands halfway to doing her 'seal clap' before, "The Pokémon theme song. F-first one."

Santana busts out laughing so hard she doubles over, almost taking the girl next to her down to the floor with her, just barely managing to slip her arm from around her waist before it's around her own abs and she's literally on the floor. Quinn looks positively triumphant while Rachel's features twist in confusing and complete bewilderment. "B-but… But I don't KNOW _that_ s-song!" she cries out, lower lip almost _trembling_. Like she's committed some incredible sin by not knowing a song. The blonde across from her just smirks toothily, shrugging.

"If you can't do the dare, Berrys, you have to…"

"Strip," interjects Santana quickly from her place on the floor, a skeezy grin on her face. She gets a glare from Quinn and an excited smile from Rachel, who is already trying to pull her shirt off before a hand is shooting to her shirt and pulling it back down.

"**No**," Quinn says firmly. "No stripping." She sits back, and Rachel is pouting again while Santana, still laying on the floor on her back, is tracing various patterns up and down the other brunette's calf nearest her. "You have to… you have to take a shot of 'Tana's tequila. _Without _a chaser."

Rachel replies with "Noooooo" the same time Santana yells out "Fuck yes!", and they both look at each other.

"Y—you— 'Tanaaaa! Tequila is— it's- I don't _like _it…"

Finally getting back up sit next to Rachel again, Santana just smirks, pulling her in close once more and smiling deviously. "I'll kiss it better, babe. _Promise_."

Still pouting, but finally relenting, Rachel huffs, crossing her arms and pouting as Quinn pours the shot. It's handed to her, and she makes a face before clenching her eyes tightly and throwing her head back, taking the shot in one go. Almost immediately she lunges forward, barely able to swallow it down before coughing and spitting. Quinn and Santana just laugh, the brunette rubbing Rachel's back and shaking her head as she does so. When Rachel stops coughing Santana cups her chin, turns her head, and kisses her soundly, tongue forcefully pushing past her lips and seeming determined to steal as much of the tequila taste from the smaller girl's mouth as possible.

Pulling away, Santana is still smirking, but Rachel is giggling and flushed more than she had been a second ago. "Better?" asks Santana, brow raised, and Rachel bobs her head quickly.

"Yup, yup, yup! Now it's your turn, 'Tana! Okay. So. Truuuth? Or Dare?"

Having gotten more of a want for tequila after kissing Rachel, Santana pours herself a shot of her own, holding a finger up. Throwing it back, she swallows the burning and accepts the chaser Rachel hands her, shaking her head and letting out a loud exhalation of air. She'd already done too many dares than she could count, and as she was mighty fine with Rachel having gone back to snuggling into her, her leg lightly hooked over Santana's, she purses her lips and brushes them along Rachel's, "Gimme a truth."

"Mmm…" Smiling, eyes fluttering open as she moves back, a blush rises on Rachel's cheeks. "Truth? This is… Like… My first _truth_. To _you_."

Santana smirks, shrugging and leaning back. She exchanges a glance with Quinn before looking back at her. "Well?"

Rachel has _no_ idea what she wants to ask Santana. This is something big. Because there are… _So_ many questions! _So_ many questions she could ask her.

Her heart is suddenly pounding, and she hopes Santana can't see how wide her eyes are. Should… Should she ask what she _really _wants to ask? Or should she ask a throwaway question?

Because wouldn't their… Whatever _this_ was be off limits?

Rachel needs a drink. Dropping her eyes, she turns to reach for her glass of Kahlua. "Okay…" she starts, her voice low, and she has to cough to get it back to something _not _obviously affected. …Why was her brain not working so well?

As she brings up her glass to her mouth, she smells the coffee liqueur. Oh. She makes a face and giggles at herself. Of course.

Taking a sip, her eyes skitter over to Quinn, as if she could help her come up with something. "Wait…" she suddenly hears tumble out of her mouth, and her arm around Santana's arm tightens, "Wait, Quinn _knows _about you."

Santana's lips curl up. "Know what?"

"_You_." Sitting up, Rachel barely bothers to drop her glass back onto the table to start poking Santana's chest. Of course, doing that, reminds her just how _amazing _Santana's breasts are. "Ohh…" she murmurs, cupping her palms to grope Santana, "These are _wonderful_…"

"_Rache_."

Santana has the most amazing breasts. Her head falling as she intently watches what she's doing, she giggles. "Oh. Yeah. You… You're not wearing a b-_bra_ because we fuuu-_fucked_."

"Yes we did, sweetie." Laughter and a huskiness in her voice, Santana's hands comes up to wrap around Rachel's, pulling them away, "And if you don't stop now, we will _again_."

Heat flares into life in Rachel's stomach. She meets Santana's dark eyes. "Can we…?"

"_No_," Quinn snaps, "Once! _Once_ was enough! _Damn_, Berr…Berry. I can't believe _you're _the horn-dog. Do I have to come _over _there?"

But Rachel allows Santana to push her hands down, a strong hand circling her wrists against Rachel's thigh. "Later," Santana growls lowly, "Okay?" When Rachel bites down on her lower lip, Santana groans. "_Rachel_. _Ask me_ my _truth _so we can get on with this game and keep Quinn company because her boyfriend's an asshole."

"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine." Sighing, Rachel drops her head to Santana's shoulder, rolling it up to look up at Santana's jaw. "Uhm… What was I…? Oh!" She smiled curiously, "How does Quinn know about you? Like… Your… Not so little…" She giggles, whispering not quietly _at all_, "Cock?"

Immediately, Quinn makes a noise that sounds like a groan and sigh. "Oh my _god_…" she snaps, "Santana, I _swear_ if you - "

"Well this one time in cheer camp-"

"_Santana!_"

"What?! It's a Truth, _Quinnie_. So shuts yer trap and lemme tellz it like it iz."

There's a momentary glare-fest to be had, both bringing up their best HBIC faces (that they can manage when drunk), and Rachel has sat up enough to look between them, back and forth, intently, completely fascinated even as she slowly sips from her mixed drink.

It tastes like chocolate and delicious.

Finally, "Fine. _Fine_. _FINE_. But I _swear _if you say annnything that _didn't _actually like, _happen_, I'm cutting in." Quinn leans back after that, arms crossed tightly and the makings of an incredibly red blush staining her cheeks. That just makes Rachel more curious, and she quickly shifts her full attention to the brunette next to her, who has sat up a little straighter and cleared her throat.

"As I was _sayingz_," starts Santana.

_It was back in cheer camp, right before freshman year of high school, when Santana was still getting used to no longer being Sue's most favored and even less used to the random erections her extra appendage was so prone to. Essentially, cheer camp was torture, and more often than not she found herself jacking off later in the evening when all the other girls were outside or in their rooms or whatever. _

_It was only day three of the two week long camp, and Santana felt like she was going to _**_die_**_. She was in the bathroom, again, for the second time that day, letting the images of non-nondescript skirts, legs, and flashes of spanks float through her mind as her hand moved steadily up and down her cock, when the door was suddenly _**_opened_**_. Quinn Fabray was half way in when she stopped dead and their eyes locked for only a second before the blonde's hazels flicked down to the lightly pulsing dick— a dick that should NOT have been between the legs of her very-female friend— and stayed there. Then Brittany had yelled something from the other room and Quinn came back to life, sputtering an apology and slamming the door closed. _

_Despite how her heart had been hammering in her chest and that she was completely terrified, Santana had still managed to finish herself off._

_Quinn and her didn't speak for the next four days unless forced to, but the blond had snuck in more than a few looks to her friend, eyes always curiously wide and lip between her teeth before she'd fall back into HBIC mode and turn into Mini-Sue once more. _

_Santana, for her part, had been freaked out enough to limit her jacking off to once every other day, which was killing her, she was sure, but she hadn't wanted to risk anyone else catching her. She had been positive the door had been locked, but if she could forget once, she knew she could slip again._

_Then, in the final stretch of camp, late in the evening when everyone else was fast asleep, the build up had finally become too much. She snuck into the bathroom, sleep shorts rubbing achingly against her hardening length, closed the door, thought _**_for sure _**_she locked it, and let herself out. The cool air and pure relief made her let out a low groan, and when her hand wrapped around herself her hips jerked up. She was just about to try and get herself off a few times when the door opened quickly, then shut, and Quinn was once again standing in front of her while her dick was on display. _

_Quinn bit her lip, swallowed heavily, and took a step closer. "So… um… That's uh…"_

_Immediately Santana had gone on the defensive, covering herself as best as she could. "S-shut up, Fabray. Just- fuck. I swear to God if you tell _**_anyone_**_-"_

_"I won't!" came the quick, rushed whisper. "That's not what I-" Another thick swallow. "So you're a…"_

_"A girl. I'm _**_a girl_**_. Okay? I just… Don't have all the right parts. Or whatever. I'm fucking serious, Q. I will make your life a complete and utter _**_hell _**_if you say _**_anything _**_to _**_anyone_**_."_

_Santana was standing now, facing away from Quinn, hands covering herself and yet she still was managing to glare back at the slightly taller girl. Quinn stepped forward again, lightly touching Santana's shoulder, making her jerk away. _

_"_**_Santana_**_, I said I wasn't going to tell and I won't. I'm just… Curious… I guess…"_

_Santana rolled her eyes. "…About my dick?"_

_Quinn flinched, but shrugged. "I guess…? I mean can I… Like does it work and everything?"_

_"…Yes…?"_

_"Can I- Could I like… Touch it…?"_

_That made Santana freeze, and she stared blankly at Quinn. "…You wanna jack me off? _**_Seriously_**_?"_

_"Oh, whatever! It wouldn't be like, any different from kissing or something. Just, you know, practice, or something." _

Rachel couldn't help but giggle a little. "Practice? Awww. That's… That's kinda cute, Quinn-Quinn."

"Shut it, Berry. Just let Santana get this fucking story over with."

"You remember this a lot different than I do…", goads Santana.

"Just tell the story, S!"

_Santana turned around, removing her hands a bit and leaned against the wall behind her, exposing herself to Quinn's curious hand as she reached out slowly, eyes locked on her target, and gently brushed her fingers across the hot skin. When Santana shuddered and her hips twitched, Quinn did again, with more pressure. _

"_Shit, Q, if you're gonna give me a handjob than just _**_do it_**_. Seriously!" _

_Glaring at the shorter girl, lips tightening into a determined line, Quinn took hold of the cock firmly and awkwardly started to move her hand up and down. Then Santana's hand was over her own and guiding her into a steady rhythm, and Quinn could feel her heartbeat speeding up as her face flushed. She was actually like, jacking Santana off. This was actually happening. _

_And she could feel her thighs clench because even though she definitely wasn't particularly curious about Santana as a whole, this part of her was, well, the guys she was interested in had parts like this, right? Mostly. And this was a chance to… experiment? without any obligations or consequences. Plus she could hold it over Santana's head (in secret) forever, that she made her cum. So._

_But then Santana was stepping into her, moving her against the opposite wall, and pumping her hips into Quinn's hand as she gripped the taller girl's hips tightly. She was muttering something, the same thing, over and over again in Spanish, and then, grip tightening and breathing rapid, she came, all over Quinn's hand and her pajama pants. Both girls were flushed and their chests were heaving, and before either knew what exactly they were doing they kissed, and Santana's hand was slipping under the waistband of Quinn's pants. Quinn jerked, was seconds from saying something, but Santana beat her to it._

_"Shh. Relax. M'not gonna take your precious virginity, Quinnie. Jus' gonna… return the favor… Practice and shit."_

_The blond was embarrassed at how wet she became under the easy stimulation of her clit from Santana's fingers, even over her panties, and it didn't take too long for her to start desperately humping the hand and grinding herself into the other girl's fingers for more pressure. Not even a few minutes later she was coming, legs weakening and having to hold herself up via the wall behind her and Santana's body against her._

"Then we cleaned up, awkwardly said g'night, and went ta bed. The end."

Rachel's first reaction is to go, "Wow..." and stare at Quinn in amazement. "You... You two _did _that?" She can't tell if her smile is one of actual glee or something less noble. Her second reaction, however, taking in Quinn's glare into her drink, her face still red while Santana teases her, is one of discomfort. "Wow..." she repeats, hand tightening on Santana's shoulder. "Did you... Did you do more?" she mutters quietly.

"What?" Laughing, tossing the napkin Quinn had crumpled up and tossed at her back at her, Santana turns her head. Plump lips turned up, her eyes twinkling, she slides her hand onto Rachel's thigh.

Rachel can feel herself rapidly blinking, and she stands up. "Nothing. I'm just. I think I should have some of that... Uhm... Water." Plucking Quinn's forgotten glass, she hurries as quick as she can into the little niche that makes up the kitchen.

As soon as she gets in there, her hands are on the sink front, head bowed so her suddenly burning forehead can take in the coolness. She lets out a deep breath. Why... Why was the image of a young Quinn and Santana _bothering _her so much?

It's not like Santana is _hers_.

The alcohol is swirling in her head and stomach, but it's not warm and _fun _anymore. No. She's left with the cold reality that Santana _isn't _hers.

...And she's left Santana alone with Quinn. Is... Is Santana going to go to _her_?

No no _no_. Rachel shakes her head, hand curling around the sink before she forces herself to stand up and start the water. This is ridiculous. She and Santana had had sex already, with Quinn in the apartment, and... And _she_ and Santana had been the ones cuddling, aside from earlier that evening.

Rachel bites her lip.

She knows if she doesn't use all of her concentration, she's going to barge into the other room and have a diva confrontation. She's good at those. And it's always been clear her passions get only riled up by alcohol.

A loud clatter makes Rachel look up. "Hey..." Quinn smiles at her, pink still on her cheeks, her hazel eyes bright under slightly furrowed brows, "You're... You're freakin' out, aren't you?"

Cursing the red blazing across her cheeks, Rachel turns to the water overflowing the glass. She doesn't even try to deny it; it's obvious Quinn knows. "It's none of my business," she tries to bluff anyway. Her eyes have started rolling, but at least she's sober enough to stay standing with her ears open.

"Right, it isn't." Quinn shuffles over, lifting up on her toes to weavingly grab another glass from the cupboard, "But you know what?"

"What?"

"You're Rachel... Berry. Of _course _you're going to... To freak. That's what Rachel Berry does best isn-isn't it? _But_." Quinn places her glass into the sink, pushing Rachel's out of the way; she swivels her waist, a hand coming up to her hip, the other lifting to point at her, "As' me what you want to know."

Rachel licks her lips. Her shoulders slump. Depending, she hopes she will or won't remember this later. "Did you... Did you ever do... Did you ever... More?"

Leaning forward, Quinn crosses her eyes. "The _only_ place Santana's _dick _has been in was my palm. That _once_." She pulls back, meeting Rachel's gaze as best as she can. "But you also... You also know what?"

Rachel nods, trying her best to concentrate on her.

"You really need to... Like... You're _fucking_ her, Rachel. _How_?"

"I... Really don't think you need a dia-diagram, do you?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. Snatching up her water, she barely manages to not spill it all over her front. "I _just _mean," she takes a deep sip, "Are you _really _sure you _know_ what you're... Getting into?"

* * *

Santana's beginning to think Quinn has cornered Rachel and started making out with her, the long amount of time they're taking. She can't quite hear what's being said, no matter the thinness of the walls, but her own humming and the music she's put back on doesn't help one bit, now does it?

But. Well. Aside from Truth or Dare, Santana would prefer the only person Rachel to be kissing to be herself.

_Finally, _just as she was going to bother picking herself up to go find the bitches, Quinn comes back in, followed soon by Rachel. "Heyy," Quinn smirks, "Your turn."

Looking past her, at Rachel looking drunkenly in thought, slowly making her way back to Santana, Santana tells herself she's only imagining the shiver of unnerve dampening her buzz. "...Fiiiiiiine..." she draws out as Rachel notices her looking, smiles at her, and takes her place back against Santana's side, quickly kissing her hello, "Rachel. Truth or Dare?"

* * *

And the game continues uneventfully, each girl managing to slip back into their drunken, boisterous roles easily, truths and dares flung around fast and furious. Quinn and Rachel trade shirts, Quinn admits that she's once had a wet dream about Mr. Schuester, Santana has to do a _perfect _rendition of I'm a Little Teapot before Rachel lets her back onto the futon, and Rachel herself has to divulge the last place she'd masturbated all happens before Quinn turns to Santana and asks, "So, like, S. I'm curious. You an' Brittany... I thought you guys were _perfect_. So. So why. Did you breakup?"

Santana isn't sure if she visibly stiffens or not, but suddenly Quinn and Rachel sort of fade to the background and her already glazed eyes become a little more distant. She's remembering all the looks now, that Brittany gave her, and the _"Santana you're looking again"s _mixed with _"You always notice what she wears_"s. And Santana would tell her that it was because those animal sweaters were hideous, the skirts should have been illegal (and not in a good way. Really) and- and-

Her jaw tightens, and she doesn't have to really see it to know that Rachel is frowning and Quinn is watching her carefully. and she's pretty sure she's bringing down the buzz _again _but- fuck, why did Quinn have to ask her _that_?

She forces herself to shrug, suddenly too aware of Rachel's weight against her shoulder, and on instinct alone she wants to pull her arm away from the smaller girl's waist- maybe shove her for good measure- but she knows she can't, so she just tightens her grip and tries to fight the scowl she's sure is there but she can't quite do that either.

"Creative differences," she says, a little more defensively then she meant. "It's like whatever now."

Santana refuses to meet anyone's eyes, and Rachel's brows are furrowed in confusion while Quinn, despite being very drunk, still manages to look judgy and critical.

"It's _Truth, _San. You can't lie," speaks up Quinn.

But thankfully Rachel seems less willing to hear this then she might have been, because she interjects with, "R-right. So whatever she says mmust be truths. Next per-persson."

But Santana can't say she's in the mood anymore. "No," she tenses, finally pushing against Rachel's waist, knowing she's not imagining the small whimper that gets her, "A break. I gots… We needs to… We _should _play something else. This is gettin' as boring as Finn's suffocating whale moves." Barely managing to wait for Rachel to slide off of her, her arm having to tighten around her shoulder so she doesn't fall on her ass, Santana stands and immediately turns.

Rachel's hand reaches out to touch her arm, but Santana, now completely away from her, suddenly completely dropped into _Brittany_, snatches herself away. "_Don't_," she snaps, grunting out a, "I'mma use the bathroom," a second later.

Once the door closes behind her, she's crying. A mixture of her normal drunken sobbing and the tenuous hold of _what the hell she's actually doing_, Santana's ashamed to realize, drunk as she is, that she's been lying to herself.

She misses Brittany.

And she knows they broke up because of her.

But, _fuck_, here she is, practically playing _house _with Rachel and it hasn't even been a _month_.

Dropping her arms around her waist, she lowers, pushing her back against the bathroom door because she can't even _look _at the sink or bathtub because it's just another reminder of what she's doing with Rachel.

* * *

Rachel can't help staring at the bathroom door. Her glass white-knuckled in her hand, taking a nervous sip every once in a while, her alcohol-soaked brain is whirling again.

Quinn had tottered over to the TV set to find the remote, having crowed in success when Animal Planet's River Monster took over the screen. "_Yess_…" Quinn whispers when she plops back down onto the futon next to Rachel, picking up a discarded bag of popcorn, "Work it, Mr. Wade…"

Out of the corner of her eye, she is watching Rachel, who keeps "subtly" glancing between the door, Quinn, and the TV. The smaller girl is biting her lip, tangling her fingers into the material of her shirt, and all-together looking completely fidgety. It's getting on Quinn's nerves.

"You knnew it was gonna come up 'ventually…" she offers, taking note of how Rachel's back stiffens.

Rachel can only shrug as she stares blankly at the TV, trying desperately not to leap up and make her way to the bathroom. Finally, growing tired of the buzz-killing tension, the blonde groans, rolling her head to look at the brunette sitting next to her. "Jus' goooo. Yer totaaally killing my buzz, kay?"

"She'll get mad…" mumbles Rachel, eyes blinking as her hands clench into fists.

Scoffing, Quinn rolls her eyes. "Uh, duh. Santana always gets mad. She'll get over it."

Standing, hesitant still, it takes Quinn waving her hands in a shooing motion for Rachel to finally swallow down her anxiety and head to the bathroom. She's just about to knock on the door when it flies open to show an annoyed Santana with red eyes and tear streaks down her cheeks. "_What_?" asks the ex-cheerleader, though it comes out more as an insult somehow.

She's frozen now, unsure of how to proceed, and stuck between selfishly wishing the girl could just get over Brittany, not wanting to actually think too badly of said blonde, and wanting to be a supportive friend. "Um.. I…-"

Teetering a bit on her feet, Santana's expression darkens even more. "_What_?" she repeats, "Wanna get… Wanna get mad at me, _too_?" Her lower lip trembles, her shoulders rising, "S's all _your_ fault, anyway."

"My fault?" Rachel flinches back, the words feeling like molasses in her throat. "'Tana, I… I just wan' you to… _Feel better_." She reaches for Santana's arm, _needing _to touch her. She's not quite sure why Santana's blaming her, and it hurts more than she probably would have realized if she was sober, but… All she wants to do is get that _look _off Santana's face.

She _has_ to get that look off of Santana's face.

"No, it _is_ your fault," Santana insists, tears starting to flow down her cheeks, "You… You…" Her head falls back, eyes closing, "_What am I _**_doing_**_ with you_?"

"No no no no no no," Rachel forces out after a second, the large amount of alcohol still in her system scattering her thoughts. "'Tana. We're… We're having fun, remember? _Fun_. And… And if Br-Brittany… Uhm… _She_…" Santana's dark eyes are glaring at her again, and Rachel throws out the first thing that comes to her, "If she let you go, it's _her _loss. Hers. Yes." Her fingers dig into Santana's arm, and she meets Santana's gaze as best as she can, "_Her loss_."

Santana sniffs, "Really?" and her body suddenly sags. Arms tight around Rachel's shoulders as her hot breath slams into the side of Rachel's head, Rachel stumbles under her weight, almost instantly moaning as Santana's upper body rubs against hers.

"Really," she mumbles with as much conviction as she can, getting a bit light headed. Santana's hot. Always is hot, she corrects herself, but, like earlier, drunken Santana's body is so warm that Rachel, now realizing her hands are already under her shirt, fingers splayed along her naked back and tingling at how _strong _she feels, suddenly, drunkenly, knows what she has to do. "You're _amazing_, Santana. Let… Let me show you?"

And it's like a second later that Rachel has Santana shoved against the bathroom sink, her hands already pawing at Santana's jeans to unzip and open them again. Her mouth is attached to Santana's neck, desperation pumping hot and fast through her veins. If she can get Santana off, she knows, things… Things won't become real. She doesn't want things to become real yet. Not now. Not now when she's drunk and can't _control _anything.

Pushing her hand down, stroking and finding Santana's already thickening length, Rachel makes a noise of appreciation when Santana pushes her jeans and underwear down, groaning wantonly when Santana's cock practically springs up to throb against her palm.

"_Fuuuuuck_, Rache," Santana hisses, throwing her head back, neck vibrating between Rachel's teeth.

_Yes_, flashes clumsily through Rachel's brain as her fingers slip through Santana's precum, sliding down to circle her, _This'll help, right?_

Santana vaguely wonders how she went from crying over Brittany and being angry at Rachel because she was crying over Brittany to _this_. But if she's completely honest with herself (at least this time maybe) it's really hard to stay upset when she's, well, _this hard_. It takes seconds for her fingers to entangle themselves into the dark brown locks now at her hip level as the smaller girl drops to her knees, and they tighten the moment incredibly plush lips kiss the head of her throbbing cock. "Fffuck… More dammit," she hisses. "_More_."

It's the first time, that Rachel can recall, where Santana is effectively throat fucking her, with hands tight on her head and hips jettisoning back and forth, dick bottoming out with every hard thrust. Her grip around the taller girl's thighs tightens and she groans, throat vibrating as it milks the hard length and she works her tongue fiercely across any part of the hot, hot skin she can manage.

The difference between her _giving _Santana a blow-job and the other girl _taking _it is… it's different, she decides through the alcohol haze. Rougher. Less controlled.

She sorta likes it…

And, she supposes, if it makes Santana forget. If it keeps Santana as hers, in even the most primitive way, then she'll take it. _All of it_.

"That's it, baby. Fuck yeah take my hard cock, you little slut. Fucking _take it_." The taller brunette's grunted, forced out mantra makes her chest ache in so many ways. It's a thrill, it's painful, it's Santana talking to and about her, but it's also Santana talking _down _and _against _her, and-

Rachel forces those thoughts away. She has to. So she does. And she focuses everything she can on just making Santana feel and feeling Santana.

And _how_ can she feel Santana. She's so thick and so _completely_ in her throat that it's actually getting hard for Rachel to breathe. And though she's trying to produce as much saliva as she can, her throat still feels raw from the rough fucking. Her throat's full. Swollen. And when Santana's body smacks into her lips as her hips jog, Rachel's eyes close and tear up as she moans as well as she can at the mixture of pain and… Santana pulls back, body starting to tremble as her fingers tense and clutch in her hair, groaning out, "Yes, _take it_. _Swallow me_," before her thick head slams back down her throat. …_domination_.

Santana's eyes roll back, abs clenching as her dick is once again surrounded by Rachel's throat, the walls closing in as she swallows. Somehow, it's like the girl doesn't have to breathe, and her tongue and lips are still wrapping around her when she swings back, and Santana has no idea how she's _doing_ it. She has no idea, but she doesn't really care. Because she's fucking R_achel fucking Berry's_ _throat_, and _fuck_, she groans as Rachel envelops her again, she's so _close_ it almost _hurts_.

"_Fuck_," she gasps, her hands wrapping around the back of Rachel's head, hunching her hips and helplessly grinding, barely aware of Rachel's nose sliding along her skin, "Fuck, you slut, you want my cum? You want me pumping it straight into your stomach?"

Rachel's throat vibrates around her, hands stroking up and down her thighs. When Santana pulls back again so the crown of her head bumps up against the inside of her lips, the smaller girl opens her eyes when Santana stops her from sucking her back in. "No," she hisses, sliding herself back and forth just enough to keep herself a second away from cumming; Rachel's tongue flicked up to curl around her tip, and she digs her fingernails into her scalp, growling out, "_No_. Answer me. You _want _my _fucking_ _cum_?"

Santana's eyes burn into Rachel's so intensely that for a moment the smaller girl feels like she's suffocating for an entirely different reason, but when she opens her mouth again she doesn't break eye contact, despite the salty (unwanted) tears stinging her eyes. "_Yes_," she whispers hoarsely, nails digging into toned thighs. And then, with only a smirk as warning, Santana forces Rachel's head forward as she slams her hips up and groans out, deep and long, as she holds the other girl's face tight against her pelvis and jerkily thrusts, _grinds_, back and forth, forcing her thick, hot cum and swelling dick as far back into Rachel's throat as it can go and keeping it there for the entirety of her release.

When she finally sags back she can feel the singer's throat working erratically, but it isn't until she feels the light shocks of coming down mix with the vibrating moans of protest that Santana realizes she's still cutting off Rachel's ability to breathe in.

She slowly slips out of the girl's mouth, keeps her hands in the hair all the same, and can't quite stop herself from gently massaging the scalp despite her earlier, harsh treatment as she listens to Rachel suck in air; watches her flushed face and locks onto dark, full-blown eyes as they come up to meet hers.

Rachel's panting hard, caught between incredible arousal and momentary near-suffocation. She can't decide what's got her more flushed, nor figure out how the burning in her lungs and stomach have quickly moved down to a slow, pulsing heat between her legs. She wants to say something. Anything. But she's caught up in the feel of Santana's fingers in her hair, and those nearly-black eyes, and all that comes out is a quiet, "San…"

Then she's being pulled up, twisted around, and slammed against the door, face first. She's just barely able to get her hands up to stop herself from actually hitting it, and she whimpers in both surprise and need as electricity shoots down her spine and settles in her core. Santana's warm breath is against her neck as soft kisses are being placed behind her ear and along her shoulder. Skilled hands make their way around her body, one slowly trailing down her stomach as the other goes up her shirt and begins kneading one of her tits.

The thing is, as tightly as Santana is pressing her against the door, and as insistent as the fingers pushing against her sex are, everything else just feels so damn _soft_.

It's confusing. Rachel doesn't _get it_. But as the hand dips into her panties and two fingers start to coat themselves with her arousal between the hot, outer lips of her pussy, she pushes back into Santana before trying to grind her hips forward. "_Fuck, Santana_. Just _please_ _fuck me already_."

Santana's foot kicks in between hers, pushing her legs farther apart, the sharp of her hip hard against Rachel's ass. Curling to rub up against Rachel's entrance, Santana opens her grip, stretching out her fingers to cup her.

Bucking as Santana's fingers slide along her clit, her palm slowly pressing against her, Rachel's still gasping for air. "_Please_," she repeats, "I need you _in_ me." She does. She really really does. After having Santana so deep and rough and exploding in her throat, Rachel isn't ashamed to admit that really, all she wants, all she _needs_, is for Santana to fill the other place she'd made hers.

Whimpering as pressure slips along her clit, Santana's lips sucking on the spot behind her ear she'd discovered the first time they'd... _Fucked_, Rachel decides she doesn't care if the side of her face is squashed against the door. Flexing her arm, she pushes her hand down the smooth surface, forcing it down her body; knuckles scraping against the wood, she almost screams when it reaches Santana's hand still cupping her because for a second, just that split second, the force of her fingers made Santana's fingers pinch her clit. "_Yes_... _No_.." she moans in short order, trying to hump her hand, "_Santana_."

Santana's hot breath washes over her ear. "Slut," Santana hisses, letting go of Rachel's breast to roughly slam around her wrist, pulling up to push her own palm into her trembling abs, trapping her lower body into her own, massaging a part of her Rachel never would have thought to be part of her erogenous zone but...

"You want my fingers." Santana flexes her hips, biting deeply into Rachel's neck as her fingers curl back. Not able to tell how many fingers are now just barely slipping inside her, Rachel moans, trying to push herself down onto them. Briefly, aware of how wet she is, she wonders how Santana's able to stay put, not giving her what she wants.

But then, with a husky growl, one finger is suddenly pushed into her, Rachel's walls automatically clamping down around it as her insides convulse. "_Fuck_," she gasps, "M-_more_. _San_."

Rolling her hips forward, what is obviously Santana's renewed cock hard and insistent against her backside, Santana drops her wrist. "You're sucking me," she whispers, dragging her tongue up Rachel's neck. "_In_," she thrusts deeply back into her, twisting her finger before pulling out again to thrust two in. Spreading her fingers, she waits for Rachel's walls to stop fluttering around her by drawing lazy, soaked circles around her clit with her thumb. "How much more?" She nuzzles Rachel's neck, suddenly biting roughly into her shoulder as she jerks back and shoves a third finger deep into her, slamming her body against the door, "Huh? You want more, baby?"

Whimpering in need, hips insistently humping back and forth even as Santana is pressing against her, making Rachel's movements shallow and fruitless, the smaller girl's nails dig into any surface they can reach. "_San_," she hisses, eyes clenched tight and legs trembling. She can feel Santana's warm lips soothing the hard bite before those perfect teeth find a new part of her neck to latch onto, and she swears if it weren't for the way Santana is practically supporting her weight against the door her knees would buckle instantly.

"Come on, baby," continues the other girl, three fingers twisting in and out slowly as her thumb presses _around _Rachel's clit, but no longer applying direct connect. She knows she's driving the smaller girl insane at this point, and she can't explain why she feels the need to draw it out like this, but she does, and she _will_. "Tell me, Rachel." She slams her fingers in hard before slowly bringing them back out till just the tips are teasing the wet folds once more, causing Rachel to all but scream in desperation. "Tell me how many you want. How much of _me _you can _take_."

Lungs expanding and contracting wildly as her entire body trembles, Rachel draws up the last of strength from her shaking thighs and _turns them_, slamming Santana's back into the door and pressing against her, hips grinding against the fingers against her as a hand instantly reaches back to tangle in black locks. Santana grunts, moans as nails scratch her scalp lightly, and bites down hard right behind Rachel's ear, again in that one spot that makes her gasp. "Yes, yes- Santana- _more_. _Pleas_e _dammit_." And despite the change in position Santana retains her control, wrapping an arm up and around Rachel's waist again to tease a hard nipple and using it and her hand down Rachel's panties to press the girl into her tightly, keeping a knee between her thighs.

Finally, the teasing of three fingers being too much, Rachel breaks. "J-just- Oh _Moses _three- no- four? _I don't know_. _'Tana-_"

Something inside Santana trips up the way Rachel says her name like that, and she gives, pushing three fingers in and pumping in and out at a steady, hard pace while curling them with each draw out, thumb flicking over and over the throbbing clit until Rachel is humping the air and pressing her backside into the other girl's hardened dick. Her skin is practically on fire, sweat is sliding down her brow and along her neck and she doesn't know if the pace is perfect or too slow or-

Then, without any warning besides an out of place, feather like kiss to her bruising neck, a fourth finger is added and Rachel actually screams, throwing her head against Santana's shoulder and a hand scrambling for something solid to grip— it finds Santana's thigh.

"OH YAWEH! _Fuck! San-tana—_"

The pace has picked up, but now Rachel is grateful for the spare few moments to just _adjust_. There's something different about having Santana's dexterous, individual fingers stretching and scraping against her trembling walls and having a hot, thick cock pushing against them. She draws them in, muscles contracting rapidly, and before the girl behind her can really start to speed up she's coming, hard, and has a fleeting thought, wondering if Santana will hold her up because she's pretty sure her legs won't be able to after this. Then everything is waves of friction and pleasure and electricity hitting hypertensive nerves while she comes, rambling out Santana's name over and over.

Santana tightens her hold around Rachel's waist, the back of her head digging into the door as more and more weight presses into her palm and wrist, her thumb digging harshly into Rachel's clit just to give her _some_ leverage as she shamelessly humps herself against Rachel's still clothed ass. Rachel's still coming, her walls still rippling around Santana's fingers, and if she concentrates hard enough, she can transfer that feeling to her pulsing cock.

She'd just come down Rachel's throat, but _fuck _if that meant anything with Rachel cumming against her, with her pussy so _ravenously _sucking her deeper. "Yes, yes, yes," she puffs hotly, dropping her hand from Rachel's heaving breast to slide back and cup herself - - but, somehow, Rachel's hand is already there, blind and sliding and jerking clumsily and distractedly around her, pushing her tight up against her ass. It's like a makeshift pussy, Santana's pre-cum streaking along her dick and helped by Rachel's hand giving her at least some of the lubrication she needs. "Close... Close your hand," she hisses, "Let me, let me _fuck _- let me - _close your hand - your thumb, yes, yes, _**_yes_**_ oh _**_fuck_**_ - - "_

And she was cumming, pulsing into Rachel's shirt and more, her arms pulling Rachel even tighter against her as Rachel moans at her slipping out from inside her, the cool air swirling around the slickness on her skin. Pressing a close kiss against Rachel's forehead, Santana mutters, over and over, "Yes, yes, babe, that's it. Yes..."

Breathing in deeply, trying to catch her breath, Rachel tilts her head to press a kiss against Santana's throat. "You're lucky..." she breathes in deeply, swallowing, knees finally sagging as Santana's arm almost cuts into her waist to hold her up,feeling Santana's cock softening and still warm against her fingers, "I'm not going to get mad at you for cumming on my back..."

"Good," Santana smirks, sighing, kissing Rachel's forehead again, "'Cuz it's totes your fault."

* * *

Quinn's attention is squarely on the chiseled jaw of Mr. Jeremy Wade, scrunched up on the futon with a pillow clutched close to her chest. Having been trying to ignore the steady pounding of what was obviously sexings happening again against the bathroom door, Quinn tells herself for the twentieth time that night that she _really_ should have called before she'd boarded the train to come over. Really.

Santana's voice groans deeply, the bathroom walls still too thin.

Really. Quinn stuffs one of her last bacon strips into her mouth. She really should have called.


	7. Chapter 7

It's only 10 A.M. when Rachel, head pounding and tongue feeling swollen, rolls over to find an equally groggy and hung-over Quinn sitting up, holding her head, and muttering something about "fucking tequila". Rolling her head back, groaning in protest at how _sore_ her whole body feels for a multitude of reasons, she manages to open her eyes up again just enough to see a still-sleeping Santana on the floor, and despite the headache and the queasy stomach, cannot help but replay the last happening of the night with a small smile on her face.

_It's 3am and they're all exhausted, sobering up, and have just barely managed to flatten out the futon into a bed despite its simplicity. Rachel and Quinn are sitting on the blankets while Santana is digging around in the closet nearby for pillows. Out of nowhere Quinn's eyes narrow and she points a stern finger at the standing brunette right as she drops three more pillows onto the mattress._

_"I don't want to hear any sex going on while I'm trying to sleep, okay? Seriously."_

_Santana smirks, looking to reply, but Rachel beats her to the punch with wide eyes and her mouth slightly agape. "Quinn! You'll be lying right next to us. That would be… Incredibly impolite of Santana."_

_"**Me**?" squawks the taller girl, crossing her arms and now glaring at both the other girls. "What about _**_you_**_ Miss Go-Down-On-Me-In-A-Theater?"_

_"She did that?"_

_"**Santana**!"_

_A shrug. "Speakin' the truth, babe." Then the smirk is back. "Besides, Q, you sure you don't want to join us? Get our 'Fapezberry' on?"_

_Neither girl looks amused and Rachel eyes her up, raising a brow. "You do realize I'm cutting you off for a week now, right?"_

_"Hah! You wish you could go that long without gettin' some of Auntie 'Tana, baby," scoffs Santana, winking at the small girl as she juts a hip out cockily. _

_Throwing her hands up, Quinn starts moving off the bed._ _"Yeah, okay, I'm sleeping on the floor. Possibly in the kitchen." _

_But Rachel grabs her wrist and pulls her back down, her narrowed eyes never leaving Santana._ _"No, you stay here, Quinn. If anything it should be Santana who sleeps on the floor, since she's being a rather rude hostess and entirely unamusing." She then takes a single pillow from the pile of five and throws it at the standing girl, who barely manages to catch it before it smacks her in the face. "There. You can use that. Quinn and I will share these. Oh, and this." She tosses a fleece blanket just as Santana is adjusting the pillow in her arms and it lands over her head._

_Ripping it off Santana tries looking livid, but the alcohol just makes her look annoyed. "Hey! This is **my** apartment!"_

_But she's going completely unnoticed as the other two are already settling into the futon and conversing._

_"Just one thing, Rachel. Are you a cuddler?"_

_"I hope you don't mind."_

_"Oh, no, actually I think it's Santana who would mind if tonight has been any clue."_

_"I can _**_hear you_**_."_

_"Night, Santana."_

_"Night, S."_

She's pretty sure Santana said something akin to a goodnight, but she can't completely remember, and as she blinks the memory away Santana is propped up on an elbow, staring at her with a raised brow. "What's so funny, short-stuff?" Rachel knows it's supposed to be at least a little insulting, but it just makes her smile more, which hurts her head and makes her wince a second later. She doesn't bother answering, just buries her face into the nearest pillow that smells like Santana and mumbles incoherently.

She hears Santana get up and mutter something about brushing her teeth and then she's left alone in the living space with a redressing Quinn. The moment she sits up she sees Quinn looking at her with something between concern and resignation. "Please,_ please_ tell me you know what you're getting into, Rache…"

Rachel's stomach rolls. "Please don't ask me that," she forces out heavily, voice scratchy, bringing a hand to her throat as she realizes swallowing hurts a little. Along with the disgusting taste of overnight alcohol and more twinges of pain along her neck and shoulders she's honestly beginning to associate with Santana, Rachel blushes wildly when she remembers what probably made her throat feel swollen. Fingers moving up to against her lips, she meets Quinn's eyes. A skittering smile flickers across her face.

Quinn shakes her head. Finished with putting on her shirt, she slowly, gingerly, takes a seat next to Rachel. Opening her mouth, she turns her chin to stare at the bathroom door where both girls can hear Santana gargling, and starts talking before she's turned back, "Rachel. Please. Is this... Somehow... About Finn?"

Almost recoiling, Rachel slaps her hand over her eyes. "Okay," she swallows, dipping her head and breathing shallowly through her mouth, "I am officially hungover. P-pardon me if I - oh _god_." She barely manages to twist her torso to reach for the trash bin close to the bed, retching loudly and painfully as what seems like gallons of liquor and stomach acid leaves her body.

"Oh god," Quinn mutters, scrambling for the bin as soon as Rachel is done with it, "I really wish you _hadn't_ - "

"Ugh, S?" she burbles minutes later when it seems like she and Rachel were done - _for the moment _- "You have... Any-any more trash cans?"

Rachel's throat feels even worse than before. Now burning and not just sore, she can feel the disgusting cold sticky sweat beading along her skin that always tells her she's tried too much for her body to handle. Not that she's honestly surprised. She _had_, after all, had much more alcohol than she had _ever _had before. "Ehhhhhhh," she moans along, pressing her forehead into the coolness of the far side of her pillow.

"You two are babies." Sweeping out of the bathroom much too energetically, Santana rifles around in the kitchen for a second before tossing a new trash bag at Quinn. "And remember. If you spew on my sheets, you're buying me new ones."

"Hey," Rachel croaks, swallowing shallowly, raising her hand weakly up, "What... About... _Me_?"

Santana tsks. "You," she starts, walking around the futon to kneel in front of Rachel, "Are new to the Santana fucking Lopez School of Drink." A smirk still on her lips, she suddenly dabs at Rachel's forehead and cheeks with a water-cool washcloth, her always-hot fingers surprisingly welcome as they knead along her neck and shoulder. "So you get the virgin, freshman treatment."

Somehow finding the energy to blush, Rachel lets her eyes flutter shut; she tries to pretend that her free hand, looking for comfort, doesn't lightly curl around Santana's bicep.

What she can remember from the night before... No, she doesn't want to remember the night before. Yet.

"Q-Quinn?"

Santana scoffs. "She's practically a fucking Alumni. She's on her own."

"Love you too, S." Quinn's response, though wavery, is still full of as much of the Fabray bitchiness as she can make it.

Unfolding the washcloth, Santana gently places it over Rachel's face, lightly tucking it around her ear. "I know," she lingers, arm tensing under Rachel's hand, "You needs to get back for your homework. So's just chill for a bit, reach for the trash bin if you need it, and I'll get rid of this useless lump before I walk you back."

Rachel's heart almost explodes. "Mmkay," she mumbles from below the fabric, trying not to show how much Santana's speech is affecting her; she honestly can't believe she's almost thankful for her inability to deal with alcohol because... Because if it gives her _this _Santana, she's almost certain it's worth it.

And honestly, that scares her more than she'd ever thought it would. When had her mind decided it needed Santana more than she ever thought she'd be fully, one hundred percent completely, comfortable with?

It's ridiculous how sleepy she is, though in hindsight it's not like she actually got that much sleep, and by the time she hears Santana and Quinn walking out the door Rachel is already drifting back into unconsciousness, the phantom heat of Santana's fingers still brushing softly over her cheek and neck.

Santana is just locking the door to the apartment when Quinn grabs her shoulder, spins her around, and pins her with the best HBIC glare she can manage. "Okay, seriously, S. What the _fuck _is going on with you and Berry?" she hisses so that on the off-chance Rachel is awake, she won't hear their conversation.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Santana slowly removes the hand that's still on her shoulder, moves to wrap her arm around Quinn's shoulders, and starts leading her down the hall to the elevator. "We're fucking, Q. Pretty straightforward."

The taller blonde lets herself be led, but side-eyes her friend, completely unconvinced. "Rachel Berry doesn't just 'fuck', Santana…"

Stomach twisting in a way she knows has nothing to do with last night's alcohol, judging by how her chest tightens at the same time, the brunette works her jaw and glances off to the side. Truth is? She knows that. She knows that high school Berry wouldn't do this just for kicks. High school Berry would want feelings, or something; things Santana Lopez _doesn't do _anymore. And if she's honest (with herself— not Quinn, or Rachel, or _anyone else_) she has no fucking idea what she's doing with the smaller girl. Besides having sex. They're obviously having a lot of really awesome sex and at this point she really doesn't want to have to kick Rachel to the curb and- "Maybe she does now, Q. Fuck if I know."

The glare she gets back sets her more on edge, and she glares right back as she jabs the elevator button hard. "Look, it's _whatever_, okay, Quinn? Rachel wants all up on my dick, she's a good lay, and - "

"Didn't know you started cuddling and calling your lays _babe_," interrupts Quinn pointedly.

Santana jabs the button again. "_Drop. It,"_ growls the brunette, and before more can be said the elevator dings and she's shoving Quinn into it. "Go back to your boy-toy and get laid yourself, kay?"

The door is closing but Quinn quickly slaps her hand on one of the edges, and they reopen. She winces, the quick movement making her head jolt, but manages to make eye-contact with Santana anyway. "Promise me, S. _Promise me _you won't screw her up."

"_Hey - "_

"Dammit, San, I'm serious! Rachel has actual dreams and a future and she doesn't deserve to be your fuck buddy until you get bored or something."

"I'm not - !"

"Santana! I know you, okay," the doors try closing again and Quinn slaps them open once more. "You'll freak out and everyone involved will get hurt. Including you…"

Sighing, unable to call up enough energy to really rant the blond out, Santana just shrugs and looks away. "Text me when you get back to Yale…" she mutters, because as pissed as Quinn is making her she's still her friend and she can't have her friends getting mugged on the train or something. Quinn nods, and finally lets the elevator doors close.

Groaning, leaning against the closed doors for a moment, Santana tries to get a hold of herself before going back to (most likely) wake Rachel back up and get her on her feet. It's stupid how the thought of the girl, sick and helplessly hungover and probably prone to making a mess on her carpet isn't as annoying as she knows it should be. It's almost _cute_, and she pushes that thought away back to the deep, deep corners of her mind before finally straightening up, squaring her shoulders, and heading back down the hall to her apartment.

* * *

Rachel barely knows what's going on for the next hour. She knows that Santana helps her up, out of her bed and gathering her things for her after forcing her to eat some random tomato soup she'd had around, and she knows that Santana doesn't seem to mind it when Rachel practically shoves herself into her arms during the taxi ride because the taxi isn't a comfortable ride at _all _for her hungover body, but she doesn't know _why _all of those things happen.

No, she swallows as Santana walks her through the commons area and down the hall, appreciating the aspirin Santana had finally given her after her second bowl of soup, no, it's like _this_ Santana is yet another Santana than the ones she'd met before.

She wonders what happened when Quinn left. Not for the first time, she regrets how fast she'd fallen asleep when that washcloth had been laid over her face.

"3C, right?" Santana slows, hand pressing harder into Rachel's waist.

Rachel swallows again. "Right. Thank you. You… Want to come in?"

Santana's eyes snap down to hers. Her lips purse, plump, like she's about to say something, and Rachel's heart gives a painful thump because _stupid_, she thinks, _why would Santana want to spend even _**_more _**_time with a silly hungover girl_?

But, finally, Santana rolls her eyes and smirks. "A shower would be great before I gets back on the road. You did, after all, throw up on my legs."

* * *

Santana scrubs at her leg, mind racing. What is she doing? Why hadn't she just dropped Rachel off and gone home? Cleaned up her apartment and got ready for her next job interview in the morning?

Air forcing through her teeth, she gives up when her skin became red and sensitive, moving the loofah to her abs and upper thighs. Fuck.

_Fuck_. What is she doing with Rachel?

And how… How much is it betraying Brittany?

Santana remembers everything important from the night before. The sex. The blow job. Everything.

And though she'd never tried to put a meaning to sex before Brittany, and Rachel _isn't _Brittany - _fuck_ no - she still… Santana grits her teeth even harder, throwing herself fully back under the water.

She doesn't have to pay for this hot water, so she is going to take advantage of it for as long as she wants to.

* * *

Rachel's been staring into space for the past… However minutes. Her fingers are jumping on her thighs, her teeth worrying her lower lip. "Kurt," she whispers, glancing at the door to the dorm as she expects Santana or her roommate to sweep through at any minute, "Please show up. I need to talk to you about…" She looks down, sighing, "Santiago."

_Santiago_. Santana's male alter-ego. The person Rachel had made up when she'd realized she'd needed to talk about Santana without… _Talking about Santana._

There's a sharp beep, and Kurt's Skype window pops up. _Rachel, WHAT are you doing that is SO important that you need my attention NOW?_

Rachel's stomach, for the nth time that day, squeezes. _Please_, she types back, lifting her chin as if she's presenting herself to the web-cam, _can you just listen to me?_ After a beat, she continues, _It's about Santiago._

_Santiago. Ooh. Do tell. How's your strapping Latino?_

_I've already told you not to call him that. _Rachel rolls her eyes, _That's not all he is._

Kurt's reply comes lightening fast. _Is he your boyfriend? Have you made it official? Rachel Barbra Berry, don't keep me waiting!_

_He's not my boyfriend! _Rachel pushes down the nausea that wells up at the thought, though she's not sure why, exactly, that one sentence affects her as much as it does. She looks up at the door again, then curls her fingers over the keys. _I… I need your opinion._

_I'll always have one of those. Go on._

_Okay_. Rachel bites her lower lip, forcing her normal reticence away. Still, a hot blush sears across her face and pulses in her forehead. _Now. Just… Hear me out? If you interrupt, I won't get through it._

Kurt's reply practically rolls its eyes. _Honey, you've already admitted to me that you're thinking about having anal sex with this guy. I'm sure you won't shock me or scar me more than you already have - too much, at least. Blaine might disagree. XD_

_NO! Don't tell anyone else! Promise me. Promise._

_Whoah, Rachel, calm down. Okay. I'm sorry. I'm all ears._

Rachel licks her lips, dropping her chin. _I… Okay. Last night got… Intense. And I… _Her heart is pounding so much she can't believe she's going to admit this but she _has _to, _My throat hurts._

There's silence for long enough that she finds herself quickly typing out, _It was consensual. But he was, he was depressed and I needed to show him that he was WORTH something and_

Kurt's answer blazes across the screen, _Rachel Barbra Berry, tell me you did NOT endanger your voice!_

Rachel quickly hits Enter, typing out, _I don't know what I'm doing when I'm with him, and, okay, I think my voice is fine, and I don't regret it - what I did - but, honestly, if I wasn't so vocally fit it may have… Been… Well, bad. _

_Wait. If I read between the lines. Wait. Rachel. You CAN'T be telling me you almost blacked out. He didn't let you breathe? WHAT? PLEASE tell me I'm wrong. RACHEL. Is this Santiago really worth this? WHAT DID HE DO?_

_Kurt. _

_No, IS SANTIAGO - did he force you?_

_KURT. I'm FINE. Just sore. _Rachel swallows, and, _Probably bruised._

_RACHEL._

_I'm FINE! Okay? Can't you just please listen? I'm not done. I need to TALK to you. I _

Rachel snaps her head up, jamming her finger down on the mouse as the door swings open; fully intending on minimizing the window as Santana strolls into the room, she doesn't bother looking at the screen.

Towel wrapped around her body and another being used to dry her hair, Santana doesn't spare much more than a glance at the girl sitting at the small desk before she throws the free towel in the direction of the hamper. "God I love that you have endless hot water. You have _no _idea how fucking incredible that is," says the tanned girl as she lets the second towel fall away from her body and stretches out, practically purring at how her joints pop. She doesn't necessarily mean to be giving Rachel a show, but the girl's already seen her naked like a thousand times. She's not gonna pretend to be shy or whatever at this point.

Rachel's face is red hot and she cannot take her eyes off of all the smooth skin, toned muscle, and the flaccid cock resting between strong thighs. She feels her mouth go dry, and swallows heavily, standing quickly and brushing past Santana as casually as she can as she start digging out her bathrobe and shower supplies from the closet. "Hot water is a necessity for performers, Santana. It helps keep our vocal chords and muscles relaxed and in peak condition."

Scoffing, rolling her eyes, Santana turns to face the other girl, a hand on her hip. "Is _everything _about singing and dancing at this place?"

Glancing back, feeling more self-conscious then she really should as she strips down, Rachel raises a brow. "New York Academy of Dramatic Arts? Really, Santana? What do you think?" She wraps the robe around her tightly, grabs her shower tote and slips on the flip-flops Santana had left near the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Feel free to make yourself comfortable." Then she's rushing out of the room, cheeks still flushed even as she wonders how she's going to possibly explain to Kurt everything going on in her head when she returns and has time to herself.

As the door closes Santana can only shake her head, rolling her eyes once more despite the target of her bemusement no longer being present. She turns back to the bed, where Rachel has folded her clothes, because _of fucking course she would _and that's when the computer screen catches her eyes.

She knows she shouldn't. It's invading Rachel's privacy or whatever, but when she sees the name Kurt and some frantic typing in all caps, curiosity overrides everything else. So, slipping on her briefs and jeans, she makes her way over to the desk and lazily sits down in the chair. A momentary jolt of arousal cuts through her, remembering the things she and Rachel have _done _on this desk, but it's quickly diminished when she actually registers the conversation that the two had been having.

"The fuck…? Santiago? Who the fuck is- Wait… Oh God, seriously, Rachel?" mutters Santana to herself. "_Santiago_? Santana is a gender neutral name for fucks sake and-" It's not until she gets to the core of the conversation that her mouth snaps shuts and she can almost feel the color drain from her features. The more she reads the sicker she feels, and the entirety of last night hits her like a brick wall, practically knocking the air out of her constricting lungs.

_Oh God- I did- I could have killed Rachel. Holy shit I almost- _**_Fuck_**_._

Santana can barely feel her hand clapped to her mouth. Staring at the screen, seeing Kurt's, _Rachel? You there? Come on, honey. Tell me. Honestly. Did he force you? _Santana shoves herself back from the desk.

_No_, right? she glares at the screen, she hadn't _forced _Rachel to take her, right?

_She hadn't._

She… She _hadn't_, _right_?

"No," she mumbles, standing up, trying to erase the blinking cursor from her eyes. "No. She doesn't have a gag reflex. She wanted - she _wanted_ - "

Santana can't continue the thought. "Oh god…" she mutters, fingernails digging into her naked abs, "Didn't she?"

But Santana hadn't even given her a _chance _to say anything; no, no, she hadn't.

Santana stares blindly at the screen. Memories of years before crowd in front of her eyes; memories of another girl, almost suffocating, still quick to reassure her but she'd never dared to - not until Rachel - oh _god_.

She recoils on herself. Fingers barely brushing across her bra and shirt, Santana can barely think as she finishes dressing. Staring down at the slight bulge she can see between her thighs, she turns to stare at the words written in black and white across the screen of Rachel's computer again.

Rachel was bruised. She was sore. She… She was _asking for Kurt's opinion about what had happened._

With_ Santiago._

Finding the first piece of free paper and pen she can, Santana quickly scrawls out a shallow excuse why she won't be there when Rachel comes back. Heart pounding, squeezing, she forces herself out of the small room, keeping her eyes away from the bathroom door as she passes it.

Her phone is hot in her pocket, taunting her, telling her she needs to get an opinion of her own. Of course, she jabs the down button in the elevator, the only person she can think of - the only person who would _understand_…

_Fuck_. Okay? she pushes her hand into her pocket, snatching out her phone, _she doesn't care. _She needs her best friend. She needs Brittany.

She needs Brittany's experience with _her_.

"San?" Brittany sounds surprised and confused, loud and suspicious, "You remembered my number?" When Santana doesn't - _can't_ - answer, she continues, "Or is this someone else who I only _think _is Santana?"

"I almost killed Rachel with my cock," she blurts out, ignoring the confused glances it gets her as she speed walks out of the building and hits the busy New York streets.

"Okay, so this is definitely Santana," is what gets as a reply from Brittany, and just hearing her best friend's voice is helping to calm her down, but it doesn't fix the problem at hand.

The problem being that she almost— she could have -

"_Brittany_, _please_."

She can hear some shuffling in the background, bites her lip nervously, wondering if this was such a good idea, but also knows that she didn't have any other options, and then Brittany is back, "San? What happened? Rachel? Like our Rachel or someone else's Rachel?_"_

Ignoring the absurd little part of her that almost word vomits out 'my Rachel', because _seriously_, she takes a shaky breath and quickly gives a summarization of last night— because she is absolutely NOT going to tell Brittany everything. She doesn't know how to explain it and the girl doesn't deserve to have it thrown in her face, even if maybe her friend wouldn't look at it that way. That isn't the point. When she finally finishes rambling out what she can manage she's still pretty sure she's on the verge of a panic attack, and Brittany must somehow be able to know (possibly due to her breathing), because she's speaking evenly and just loud enough to be heard over the din of the city.

"Santana? Santana you need to breathe, okay? Just take deep breaths and calm down. Everything is fine. You didn't hurt Rachel, remember? You said she was just hung-over this morning and you just saw her."

Being told to breathe just reminds her of how she _didn't let Rachel breathe_.

"I could've ruined her dreams, Brittany. _Brittany I could have ruined her dreams_ with my _cock_." Because that's the other part, and Kurt's blaring "DON'T YOU DARE ENDANGER YOUR VOICE" is like a burning brand in the back of her mind. Why didn't Rachel _say anything_? Not just about the- Oh God, she doesn't even want to think about it now. Her memories are giving her mixed signals and its making her feel sick again.

She hears Brittany's voice again. "But you didn't. And she liked it, right? Because I'm pretty sure Rachel totally would have told you if she didn't like it. She talks a lot, I mean. And she's like, super loud about that kind of thing."

"Well, yeah, but I mean…"

"Did she say she didn't like it?"

Santana swallows and shakes her head, then realizes that, duh, Brittany can't see that. "N-no. She didn't."

"So… Just, you know, do it the same way next time and she'll be fine."

It's not that easy, Santana wants to say, because she had been drunk, Rachel had been _really _drunk, and she didn't even tell the blonde about the rough finger fuck that happened right after. How sore did _that _make Rachel? How sore has _everything_ been making her? Fuck. Rachel said something about keeping muscles relaxed. She dances. Fuck.

"San?"

"Sorry, Britt. R-right. Right."

There's a pause on the other end, and then, "You still don't sound okay, S…"

She isn't okay. But she's feeling better. Less panicked and not as disgusted as she had right after reading the conversation. Santana takes another deep breath, lets it out slowly, and rests against the side of the bus stop. "I'm better, B. Um… thanks… Just… Did I… I mean when I… with you…" She bites her lip, and there's another, shorter pause, before Brittany answers.

She can practically hear the frown in the girl's voice. "Santana… I told you, it was fine."

"You blacked out," Santana counters, and she hates how weak her voice sounds.

"Only once. Santana, it happened one time and you never did that to me again- well, like, with my mouth on your cock, I mean, cause I totally passed out in other times but that was really hot and totally okay, too."

"Right. Okay. Thanks, Brittany… I just… I just needed to talk to someone who would… Who's, you know, been… with me…"

"Yeah… I'm glad you called, S…"

"I uh… I gotta go, B. I'll—" She closes her eyes and swallows. "I'll call again, later, okay? Promise."

"Okay, San. Talk to you later?"

"Later, B."

The phone lets out an electronic click, signifying the call has ended, and Santana's head falls back against the bus stop panel.

_What the fuck am I doing…?_

* * *

Rachel stands in her bathrobe, eyes shining with stubbornly unshed tears as shaky hands holds the scribbled out note up to her face. She knew it was stupid to think Santana would stick around after her shower, but she had hoped… and really, maybe that was the problem. That was always the problem. What was it people used to always say about her?

_I always want everything too much… What am I even doing…? Risking my voice — my dreams, for- for Santana? We were just friends, not even best friends or even close friends, just friends, and now we're…_

"Now we're just… having fun…" she mumbles, sitting on the bed and staring out the window, hands still clutching the note. "It doesn't seem like fun to me…"


End file.
